


The Akeilon Omegas

by Iliad06



Series: The Akeilon Omegas [1]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Courtship, Crying, Harems, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Molestation, Overstimulation, Pining, Rimming, Rutting, Tournaments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-03-30 21:03:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 64,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13959963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iliad06/pseuds/Iliad06
Summary: Prince Torveld spends his summers in Vere negotiating trade deals. One summer, he gets a little more than what he asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I noticed that the Captive Prince fandom was lacking a lot of ABO type of fics so I wanted to write one! I also wanted to give a shot to a fic over 50k and this story exceeds 60k words. It is complete, but I am in the editing process so I'll be posting every other day, usually in the morning.
> 
> This fic does take place in the CP verse, but I'm playing with ages. Torveld is older than Laurent, but it's not the same age gap as in the book. Auguste is alive so if Laurent seems a little less-reserved, this is my imagining of how Laurent would act with his brother still alive and around his best friend (Torveld). 
> 
> Slavery was abolished before Torveld was even born, so this fic is an imagining of what would happen if Kallias and Erasmus went to Vere of their own volition and met Torveld.
> 
> There are a lot of tags I still need to apply, but I'm trying not to give away some things before they happen. So I'll tag as I post!
> 
> Enjoy!

The palace at Arles is as extravagant and beautiful as the two brothers who reign over it. King Auguste is a just king, jovial to his court and allies, and fierce to his enemies. His strength with a sword is matched only by his brother’s intelligence. Prince Laurent’s quick mind is just as sharp and deadly, though often underestimated to the lethal mistake of his enemies. If the two wanted to march on his land, Torveld has no doubt they would eventually claim victory, although he and his king brother would make them pay dearly for every won step. Still, it is to Torveld’s relief that they are allies and to his immense joy that Laurent—prickly and distant Laurent—considers him a dear friend.

It is the alliance that brings him to Vere every summer to renegotiate trade agreements and solidify Patras’s relationship with the brothers’ kingdom. It is his friendship with Laurent that keeps him for the better part of the summer instead of the couple weeks such deals would actually take. 

Prince Torveld and his retinue of guards, servants, and merchants arrived only two days ago to a colorful welcome by Veretians trying to glimpse the foreigners and the bright smile of Auguste and the just as radiant, if smaller one of Laurent. Torveld embraced both men like brothers and spent the first two days hidden away in Auguste’s lounging room, speaking with both brothers like gossiping noblewomen, interrupted only by servants with food and drink. 

Once, during mid-morning on the second day of Torveld’s visit, the three men were interrupted by a knock on the door followed by a servant carrying a letter instead of food and drink. The letter was tied with red ribbon and handed to Laurent by the silent courier. Torveld watched in silence as the tips of Laurent’s ears glowed and he shoved the letter inside his jacket without opening it.

“Ah,” Auguste teased in a knowing voice, “our dear Prince Damen come to call again.”

“Shut up,” Laurent growled. He glared hard at his brother, but Auguste merely brushed the icy stare off with a chuckle. 

“You know I have already given Damen my blessing to court you. You only have to allow it.”

“Damianos of Akielos?” Torveld asked, brows kissing together in his confusion. 

“Do you know any other brute who would send me letters every week and tire out his couriers and mine with his incessant correspondence?” Laurent’s voice was sharp with annoyance, but the pink tinge that hadn’t left his ears since the letter arrived gave away his true feelings. 

There was a time that Prince Torveld considered courting the beautiful man before him. Torveld was an Alpha, confirmed when he popped a knot at the age of fourteen, a year earlier than expected for secondary traits to show but not unheard of. Laurent was expected to be an omega, beautiful as a youth with lithe limbs and wide eyes, and Torveld was smitten for much of his teen years with the idea of courting his younger friend and becoming mates. When Laurent turned sixteen, he proved the rumors wrong, smell finally tinged with the sharp tang of alpha.

It was not completely unheard of for alphas to mate, although it was exceedingly rare, doubly so for alphas of nobility who have the added pressure to carry on family lines. But Laurent’s smell was no longer sweet to Torveld and though Torveld still found him beautiful, he desired his companionship more than his body. Besides, he could not resist the sweet charms of omegas and wanted nothing more than to find a mate to dote on.

“Does Prince Damen realize you’d sooner slice off his knot than bend over for another alpha?” Torveld asked, teasing clear in his voice to keep from upsetting his friend too much. Laurent, noble and proper, chucked a silk pillow at his head.

“It seems that is what Damen likes about our fiery Laurent,” Auguste said, and the two men shared a laugh as Laurent’s ears turned redder. Laurent excused himself then with a curt comment about preparing for supper, a supper Torveld knew would not happen for four more hours.

“I wager one gold piece he’s going to write Damen,” Auguste said as soon as the door shut behind his brother. Knowing Laurent, Torveld declined the bet.

Hours later, Torveld is glad he trusted his instincts. Laurent cuts a sharp figure in his navy dinner jacket. The color highlights the sheen of his golden hair and ivory skin, marred only by ink stains on his fingers, freshly scrubbed but stubbornly visible. Torveld grins at Laurent and flicks his eyes down to his fingers and back up just to see Laurent’s eyes narrow into a sharp glare. The jest costs him as the younger brother turns to speak with the noblewoman on his right and resolutely ignores Torveld’s attempts at conversation for the first two courses.

Even being ignored by his dearest companion cannot damper Torveld’s joy this night. Veretian suppers are always extravagant affairs, but it is clear Auguste and Laurent planned his welcome supper down to the finest detail. Each course is more delicious than the last: fluffy bread smeared with rich butter, followed by a warm soup, then crisp greens and juicy fruits to cleanse the palate, and finally hen, roasted to perfection and seasoned with the savory herbs the region is known for. The wine flows and Torveld drinks two glasses in such a hurry to indulge in the sweet wine not found in his own country that he feels a little warm under the collar.

Dessert is next, and the serving doors open to a flood of servants and a waft of the sweetest smell fills Torveld’s nose. It’s orange peel and honey and the mixture makes Torveld’s mouth water with desire to gorge although his stomach is already set to bursting. He watches as a servant places a bowl before him, disappointed to find rich cream and an apple crumble that smells of cinnamon and not the oranges and honey he was expecting.

He can feel his eyebrows draw together in confusion and beside him, Laurent clicks his tongue in the way he does when he’s realized something for a reason unknown to Torveld. He looks up at the prince to find him not looking at Torveld at all, but watching a servant, frozen with a wine pitcher clutched between white knuckles. 

The servant is a beauty unlike any Torveld has seen before. His skin is ivory in color and free of hair on his face and the glimpse of his chest where the shirt peaks open beneath loose laces. His eyes are wide, and the hue is of the sweet honey that he smells like. Hair falls in a cascade of curls that frame his angelic face and brush his collarbones around his long, lean neck. If Torveld did not know any better, he would believe this young man could be a brother of Laurent and Auguste, save for the hair that is one shade shy of the golden signature of the brothers.

He looks worried, eyes a little too wide, a small wrinkle forming on his smooth forehead, and frozen in a half step towards Prince Laurent. Torveld wishes for an insane moment to sweep the young man into his arms and protect him from whatever realization has brought about this fear.

A door swings open and closed somewhere behind the young man and orange peel and honey assault Torveld’s nose again. _Omega_ , his mind supplies. That explains the smell and hairless face. He inhales deeply and feels a soft groan leave his throat before he can stop it. His pants are tight about the hips and he’s glad for the table that blocks the view of his lap, although it can do nothing to hide the fragrance of his arousal. He closes his eyes and turns his face towards his dessert, breathing in cinnamon and apple to mask the tantalizing citrus.

The moment passes in a few seconds, but ever-observant Laurent notices the frozen servant and aroused Torveld.

“Erasmus,” he calls in a soft voice and Torveld sees the servant move quickly out of the corner of his eye. 

“S-sorry, my lord,” Erasmus says as he pours wine into Laurent’s barely touched goblet. His voice is light like the sweetest music and Torveld grinds his teeth to keep from asking the young man to bed.

“It’s quite alright, Erasmus,” Laurent says, always sweet to omegas in his employ. “I believe Prince Torveld would appreciate more wine as well.” He flicks his wrist casually in Torveld’s direction and for a moment, Torveld hates him. Torveld prides himself on his control as an alpha, bedding only willing omegas not addled by the desire to quench their heat with his knot. 

But the _smell_. Torveld has never smelled anything as sweet as the omega that steps to his side. He clenches his fists beneath the table as the fragrant omega leans slightly over his shoulder to grasp his goblet. Torveld cannot tear his eyes away as long sleeves pull back to reveal slim wrists. Beautiful, he thinks, as he studies those fine wrists, unable to look up at the omega’s face to see true beauty. He knows he would not be able to control himself.

Erasmus shifts a little on his feet and Torveld is hit with another waft of that smell. His cock gives a hearty twitch in his pants even as he keeps himself from reacting outwardly. He cannot control his smell and his desire must show because a soft gasp reaches his ears from the omega beside him. The noise is music and Torveld desires to hear more.

He closes his eyes again, trying to calm himself before his stench permeates the room. He is glad for the fragrance of dessert and the other guests, sure those smells mottle his own.

“Oi!” the courtier at his side exclaims. Fear grips Torveld for a moment, worried that his scent has offended in some way until the man adds: “Pay attention!” 

Torveld eyes snap open to find his goblet almost full of wine instead of poured halfway as is custom. Erasmus jumps and wine splashes out of the pitcher and onto the wooden table beside Torveld’s glass.

“Oh!” Erasmus gasps and clunks the pitcher down in haste. The wine splashes inside but luckily does not add to the mess. “I’m so sorry, my lord. How clumsy of me!” He whips a napkin from the pocket of his pants and blots at the small puddle around the glass with trembling fingers. “I’m so sorry.” He sounds near tears and if there is one thing Torveld cannot bear, it is the sight of a pretty omega in tears.

Torveld brushes gentle fingers against the pale wrist he stared at moments before, but Erasmus only flinches and blots with more desperation, smearing wine across the wooden surface. Torveld wraps his fingers around the slim wrist, skin warm and soft against his palm. The omega freezes, head hung in shame and eyes staring at the large hand that holds him. 

“It is alright, Erasmus,” Torveld says in a gentle voice as he takes the napkin from the servant’s shaking fingers. “Wine is easily cleaned and spills are quickly forgotten.” He presses the linen onto the table for a moment and the cloth soaks up the excess wine.

“See?” He waves at the dry table. “No harm done.”

“B-but your wine.” The omega chews hard at his bottom lip and Torveld has to look at the wine goblet to keep from doing something insane like soothing the abused lip with his tongue in a room full of courtiers and servants. His wine goblet is too full but Torveld smiles. 

“Easily solved,” he declares and takes a swig of the crisp, sweet wine. It seems more refreshing than before and quenches at least one of Torveld’s thirsts. 

Erasmus’s relief is almost palpable. His lips spread into a gentle smile that makes his face radiate with beauty that leaves Torveld breathless. Another wave of the sweet scent washes over Torveld, made all the sweeter with Erasmus’s smile accompanying it. 

“Thank you, sire,” he breathes. Before Torveld can respond, he grasps the pitcher and turns away, taking the warmth of his smile and the sweet smell of oranges with him.

Torveld watches him go, eyes falling to his round backside swathed in the tight cotton pants of servants. It is a moment before he can blink away his distracting thoughts and turn back to his dessert only to find a foreign spoon scooping up a large bite of warm apple and thick cream. He watches with wide eyes as the spoon makes its way to Laurent’s smirking mouth. He knows he should protest, but his mouth doesn’t seem to want to listen to his brain. He’s not sure what expression adorns his face, but whatever it is has Laurent laughing with a sound like bells.

“I love when I’m right,” he boasts and helps himself to another spoonful of Torveld’s dessert.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read my fics before, you know I do some POV switching because apparently I can't choose just one! That'll happen, one day...
> 
> Erasmus POV

Erasmus flees the table as quickly as his feet can take him without spilling wine from the pitcher. _Again_ , his mind supplies, and he flushes with shame as he thinks back to his clumsy hands. Never before has he made such a mistake and he knows his ears are bright red with his embarrassment as he passes the pitcher to another servant and ducks into the kitchen pantry. He’s not supposed to be in there during supper, but he needs a moment to slow the knocking of his heart against his rib cage. _That man…_

His thoughts break off abruptly with the sound of the door opening and closing behind him. He whirls, steeling himself for chastisement from the head servant, only to come face to face with friendly blue eyes. 

“I saw you duck in here,” Kallias says, reaching a hand out to grasp Erasmus’s shoulder. The touch is warm and helps to ground Erasmus from his errant thoughts. “What is the matter?”

“The man next to the prince, do you know who he is?”

Kallias smiles. Not a thing occurs inside the walls of Arles without Kallias catching wind of it. His propensity for gossip rivals even the courtiers. “That’s Prince Torveld of Patras and he’s the ambassador of Vere. His brother is King Torgeid.”

Erasmus nods, but he must look distracted because Kallias cocks his head. 

“Why?” he asks.

“Just curious.”

The rest of supper passes in a blur of pouring wine for various men and women. He ducks wandering hands and avoids the head table where he can feel dark eyes following him. He warms under the collar, but fights off his thoughts by focusing all his energy on serving with expert skill. Beneath the current of his mind runs the smell of land after a cool rain and the name Torveld slipping over his thoughts like a river.

After supper, Erasmus wishes only to cool himself with a walk in the garden. Kallias, sweet Kallias, offers to accompany him, but he waves the other omega away with reassurances that he will be fine and would rather be alone.

The night is crisp and the breeze teases through his long hair to cool the warm skin of his neck. The gardens offer quiet and privacy to any couples that wish to find intimacy in the hidden alcoves off the path. Erasmus desires only quiet so he is careful to avoid those areas and instead finds himself a spot at the marble balcony that overlooks the city below. He breathes the night air in cool gulps that finally chill the warmth in his chest as he views the city. Lanterns light streets and stone buildings with thatched roofs stretch almost to the horizon. It’s different from his homeland of Akielos, but he finds it beautiful all the same.

His mind wanders as he gazes at the city, fleeting from one thought to the next. The clean smell of Torveld. His kind eyes. His smile. The burning of his touch where he wrapped his fingers around Erasmus’s wrist. The omega looks at the pale skin now, sure there should be marks from the heat of that touch, but the skin is smooth and unmarred. He remembers thinking that large hand could snap his arm in half with a squeeze. That thought should have scared him in the moment, but the gentle way Torveld touched him had the opposite effect. Even just remembering makes Erasmus’s groin tighten.

Laughter cuts through the peace of the night and he glances down to find a group of men and women weaving their way with the gait of the drunken towards the nearest tavern. One of the men, in an effort to show off, tries to jump from a low wall with a twist and falls on his backside in the dirt. The group laughs, and Erasmus finds himself joining them in a breathless little giggle.

“Beautiful,” says a deep voice behind him. Erasmus whirls around, fear clenching his chest with ice. If this man means him harm, he will be hard pressed to escape the high balcony flanked with tall shrubs.

Prince Torveld stands behind him, hands lifted to show he is not a threat, and the ice melts away as the smell of fresh rain reaches him. The prince is more striking lit by the moon and stars. His face looks as if he were sculpted by an artist: the chiseled jaw adorned with trimmed scruff, and sharp eyes, a warm brown in color. The only flaw is a bump on his nose, sign that it has been broken and set. He’s taller than Erasmus thought and his body is thick with obvious muscle hidden beneath the conservative clothing of Vere. 

Erasmus’s cheeks warm with a blush and he turns back to the city before he can drink in the sight of the lovely prince for too long. The group is gone and the streets below are quiet again. 

“You should see the city after the first snow,” he says lightly.

“I wasn’t talking about the city,” Torveld says with the confident ease of an alpha. 

Erasmus flushes and ducks his head. 

Prince Torveld leans against the balcony, pressing his hip against the smooth marble in an obvious show that he has no care for the view below him and would rather look at Erasmus. He leaves space between them and the omega is grateful. Space means no forceful hands and that he can leave if he wants to. It also ensures his nose is not too overwhelmed with the wonderful scent of the man beside him. He finds himself wanting to lean closer, to bury his nose in that thick neck, but that would be taking liberties above someone of his status. 

The air between them feels charged and Erasmus searches his brain for some way to start the conversation.

“Do you like Vere, my lord?” he asks and winces. Of course, the prince likes Vere. According to the older servants, he’s been visiting since before he was the official ambassador, when he and the golden brothers were just children.

“Yes,” Torveld answers smoothly, not deterred by the weak topic. “I have always found Vere to be beautiful and its citizens more so.” 

The words fill Erasmus’s stomach with the heat of a candle, gentle but insistent in its flickering. He ignores the overt flirtation in favor of changing the subject, unsure how to respond to the attentions of a prince. “I hope that dinner pleased you, sire. Prince Laurent spent hours planning it to your liking.”

“Laurent does know my preferences. I especially enjoyed the sweetness of the wine.”

“Will you turn everything into a flirtation?” Erasmus means to tease but the words come out sharper than he wants. His face heats with shame again—it seems he cannot stop blushing around this man—and he glances up at Torveld, worried to have offended.

His worry is misplaced because amusement dances in Torveld’s brown eyes and his mouth tilts sideways in a pleased smirk. 

“If it pleases you, Erasmus.” The prince’s voice is a low growl and his tongue wraps around his name like licking a treat. Heat burns in Erasmus’s gut and he feels the wet sensation of slick gathering at his hole. Torveld must smell his arousal because his gaze darkens.

Mortified, Erasmus opens his mouth to beg leave, but only a whimper comes out as his senses are filled with the deep scent of the alpha before him. He trembles and the slick trickles down his backside, filling him with a mix of shame and arousal. He clenches his eyes shut, trying desperately to control his body.

Boots move through the grass and Erasmus knows if he opens his eyes to see the prince closer to him, he will drop to his knees and offer himself. He has never reacted so strongly to an alpha’s smell and he’s not sure what that means, but it’s confusing and pleasurable all at once.

“Erasmus, open your eyes.”

He does and finds Torveld has put more distance between them. When he breathes, the scent of alpha lingers but is not as strong as before and his muddled thoughts begin to clear with every rise and fall of his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. Before Torveld can ask why, he turns and flees the garden. The prince calls after him, but Erasmus only runs faster.

***  
“Wait a minute,” Kallias says and Erasmus knows from the other omega’s tone that he is about to be told off. He frowns and flips the pages of the book in his hand, looking for any torn pages or marred ink, as he prepares for his friend’s reaction.

The castle is quiet, many of the courtiers sleeping off the wine of the night before, while Erasmus and Kallias open the doors of the library for anyone who happens to want a book. It’s unlikely they will have any visitors this morning, but it is their duty to see that the library is open from after breakfast until just before supper. Erasmus enjoys mornings in the library most. Even on normal mornings, the visitors are minimal, and that means peace and quiet with only Kallias at his side. 

This morning is not so quiet, regardless of the empty library.

“So you’re telling me,” Kallias’s voice is loud and cuts through his focus on the returned book in his hand, “you met an alpha who smells like water.”

“Rain. He smells like cold rain.”

“Ok _cold_ rain. And he made you feel all that and you just ran away?” Kallias voice rises with every word until he sounds completely incredulous at Erasmus’s retelling of the night before.

All Erasmus can do is blush and nod.

“Why?” the brunette exclaims.

“It was… overwhelming.”

Kallias runs a hand through his short, dark curls with a frustrated sigh. “Eras, you have to find a way to meet up with him again.”

“I can’t,” the blonde says as he closes the book he was looking through and adds it to the pile to be re-shelved.

“If he smells so good, he could be your true mate.”

“True mates only exist in myth.” While it’s true that some alphas and omegas smell more pleasing to each other, true mates only exist in fairy tales or stories of convenience. The only person to claim true mates in Erasmus’s recent knowledge was an alpha knight trying to wed an already engaged omega noblewoman. The scandal was all Arles could talk about for weeks.

“Kallias, I can’t,” his voice is forlorn when he wants it to be sharp, “and you know why.” He snaps another book shut and adds it to the growing stack.

Kallias opens his mouth to retort something, but the library door opens with a creak and both omegas look up to glimpse the visitor. Erasmus half expects Prince Laurent to come through the door, a usual early morning guest, eager for new literature and to avoid busier times. He does not expect the handsome figure of Prince Torveld to appear in the door, accompanied by the smell of cool rain.

The prince looks tired, face slack with exhaustion or excess wine, as he scratches his fingers through the scruff on his chin and yawns. He wears a simple Patran tunic instead of the formal Veretian clothes of the night before. The cloth wraps around his torso in waves of loose cotton and showcases his sharp collarbones and the thick muscles of his arms and thighs. Erasmus’s mouth dries at the sight. 

Next to him, Kallias stiffens. “Is that—” Erasmus nods before he can finish his question. Kallias breathes a sound of awe and Erasmus finds himself nodding again.

The prince seems to shake off his stupor and finally looks up at the omegas behind the wooden table that serves as the library’s desk. His brown gaze roam over Kallias’s frame before landing on Erasmus.

“Prince Laurent isn’t here, is he?” he asks.

Erasmus shakes his head and can feel Kallias doing the same beside him. It’s a wonder neither one of their mouths are gaping open. 

Torveld chuckles and runs a hand through his short hair, making the brown locks stand up from his skull.

“Can we help you, my lord?” Erasmus asks and Torveld smiles as he steps up to the table. This close, Erasmus has to tilt his head back to meet the gentle gaze of the other man, but his height doesn’t make him intimidating. His scent wraps around Erasmus like the night before, only now it is comforting instead of heady.

“Can you help me locate a book?” 

Before Erasmus can respond, Kallias pipes up. “Erasmus would love to, Prince Torveld,” he chirps as he grabs the stack of books in front of Erasmus and slides them in front of himself. “It seems I’m too busy with returns.”

The blonde resists the urge to roll his eyes or shove his friend’s shoulder at his obvious actions. Instead he turns to Torveld with a gentle smile. “I would be happy to help, my lord. Do you know the title of the book you seek?”

Torveld hums and his fingers scratch through his beard again. “I’m not sure. Is there a book you would recommend for a man who needs a distraction?”

A hundred titles spring to his mind, but Kallias speaks before he can manage. “Distraction from what, if you will permit this humble servant to ask.” 

Erasmus glares sideways at his friend—Kallias does not believe in being humble—only to find Kallias’s blue eyes shimmering with his own amusement. If Torveld notices that Erasmus is being teased, he doesn’t show it.

“Something to distract an alpha yearning for a pretty omega.” His lips stretch into a lazy smile and Erasmus has to look down at the wooden table to keep his breath. He doesn’t know how to respond to the obvious flirtations of the prince except to blush.

Kallias giggles and bumps Erasmus’s hip with his own. To Erasmus’s great relief, he stays silent.

“Do you have any suggestions?” Torveld prompts and Erasmus feels himself nodding and moving before he’s really thought through his actions. He crosses the library, lit in the cool rays of the rising sun, and it feels a little like wading through water with the warm press of Torveld’s scent making his brain fuzzy. He shakes the feeling away as he comes to a set of shelves that face away from the door. The alpha stands by his side but leaves space between them.

“These books are the legends of Vere,” he says as he trails fingers over the stiff bindings in search of one in particular. “They’re all about alpha knights saving omega princesses.”

“Ah!” he exclaims when he finally finds it. He plucks the book off the shelf and extends it to the prince. “This one is about an omega who becomes a knight. It’s one of my favorites.”

He chews his lip, suddenly unsure. It’s a risk, suggesting such a book to an alpha prince, but Erasmus has a feeling Torveld will appreciate the bold gesture. He’s nothing like the omega knight—Kallias would be more aligned to that character than him—but the story is different from the others and he appreciates its uniqueness.

Torveld grasps the book with both hands and smiles at Erasmus. “I’ll be sure to treasure it then.”

Erasmus returns the smile even as his ears warm at the tips. “Can I help you with anything else, sire?”

“Meet me in the gardens tonight?”

The omega flushes hard and stares down at Torveld’s sandals instead of his handsome face. Gentle fingers grasp his chin and he trembles as his face is tilted up to meet Torveld’s kind eyes. “I swear on my honor I will not do anything untoward. I wish only to speak with you more.”

Erasmus nods and Torveld’s grin warms him from scalp to toes. 

The prince leaves, stopping only at the desk for Kallias to write his name and the title of the book on the library’s log, and Erasmus resumes his duties. He is only halfway through checking another book when Kallias sidles up to him.

“Prince Torveld is besotted with you already.”

Erasmus only hums in response, focus knife-sharp on the book in his hands. Tan fingers splay across the pages and Erasmus sighs.

“What?”

“I’m happy for you,” Kallias says with a sweet smile. Erasmus knows him too well. He can see another, darker emotion in those blue eyes. He stares, eyebrows raised until Kallias voices his concern. “What will you do about alpha?”

“He cannot stop me from seeing someone.” Kallias levels him with his own stare and he sighs and looks down at the book gripped loosely in his hand. “I don’t know,” he admits with a murmur.

A thin arm wraps around his waist and pulls him tight into Kallias’s warm side. “No matter what trouble comes of this, I’m by your side,” he declares with a bright smile. Erasmus swears it’s the prettiest smile in all of Vere.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed posting yesterday and today is a short chapter, so I'll post another chapter tomorrow!

Prince Torveld cannot remember a time when he was so nervous. He has formed alliances with kings and queens, negotiated trade with the wild women of Vask, and even entered courtship with noble omegas in his own country—not that those ever worked for long. Yet, a simple servant makes his blood rush in his veins and his heart thrum. No, not a simple servant. Such a description is beneath the young man, regardless of his status. Erasmus is beautiful, the most beautiful omega Torveld has ever laid eyes on. 

Torveld will court him with all the grace and honor he would bestow upon a noble. His brother will probably tease him mercilessly for falling so hard and so quickly for a servant, but the king will allow it. Torgeid has a mighty brood of noble sons and daughters that could run the kingdom of Patras for a hundred years without ever needing Torveld’s offspring. He wants children, yes, but what he wants more is a mate he loves, and status is not something that plays into matters of the heart.

With all these thoughts running circles in his mind, Torveld dresses in his finest chiton, a deep green he knows looks good with his coloring, and hastens to the garden.

The night air is fresh with the aroma of the flowers that grow in the gardens of Arles. Lush grass cushions his steps and tickle his bare ankles where the ties of his sandals end. He turns the corner into the same alcove the night before to find Erasmus already there, leaning against the balcony and looking over the city below.

What joy he feels to get a moment to study the young man without his knowledge. The flickering light of the garden lanterns flatters Erasmus’s ivory skin and pale hair, making him glow like the fairies of myth. He wears a simple tunic, the style of Akielos, which seems odd to Torveld but he won’t complain. The tunic wraps tight around his slim waist and falls to barely mid-thigh, revealing thighs the color of cream where Erasmus bends against the stone railing. Torveld yearns to run his fingers over that smooth skin, but he won’t take liberties too early. The omega fled last night after smelling of spun sugar, the telltale sign of slick, and the prince ruminated on it all night, unable to find sleep, before finally figuring out that Erasmus feared his own reaction to the alpha. He vowed then that Erasmus would set the pace of their courtship and finally found rest.

Torveld clears his throat and Erasmus startles only a little before greeting the prince with a soft smile.

“Well met, my lord.”

Torveld smiles himself and steps up to the balcony, leaving space as he did the night before to keep Erasmus’s scent from driving him mad with desire. The breeze gifts him a cool draft of oranges and honey, but he finds it pleasant instead of overwhelming. Perhaps he has become accustomed already or his mind has overruled his instincts.

“Will you grant me the honor of accompanying on a walk around the gardens?” He extends his arm to the omega, confident Erasmus has never been treated with such polite formality before, and delights in the light flush that adorns Erasmus’s cheeks.

“Of course, sire,” Erasmus says and tucks his fingers into the bend of Torveld’s bare arm. Formality does not require it, but Torveld covers the warm fingers with his other hand, wanting to touch as much of Erasmus’s skin as possible.

The pair turns as one and walks down the stone path of the gardens. Bushes and flowers of all colors frame their walk. It’s beautiful, even at night, but Torveld spends more time watching Erasmus’s face than the greenery.

“Your tunic looks to be of Akielos,” Torveld says. “May I ask why?”

“I am originally from there. Kallias as well. Prince Laurent only requires us to wear Veretian clothes while serving banquets.” Laurent’s preoccupation with order is familiar to Torveld.

“Is Kallias the other man in the library?” Erasmus nods. Finally, a name for the pretty youth with the sly grin at Erasmus’s side that morning.

“Have you been friends long?”

“My whole life.” Erasmus’s face lights up when he talks about Kallias and it makes Torveld warm with affection. “He is a dear friend, if sometimes a bit brazen.”

Torveld chuckles. “Do you refer to how _busy_ he was with the return books?”

“Kallias is not one for subtlety.” Erasmus laughs into his hand, the sound pretty and light. Torveld wishes to pull his hand away so he can hear more.

“His loyalty to you was obvious.”

“He desires me to be happy.”

“And what do you desire?” Torveld stops their walk and Erasmus faces him, although he keeps his eyes trained on Torveld’s collarbone instead of meeting his gaze.

“The same,” he says after a moment’s pause. Torveld cups his cheek and runs the tip of his thumb along a high cheekbone. Blonde lashes flutter and Torveld is struck with the desire to kiss that perfect, pink mouth. He beats back the feeling with all the control he can muster and turns to continue their walk in the garden.

They walk along in comfortable silence. The garden path twists through hedges filled with roses of every color possible. Torveld cannot help to think their beauty pales when compared to the lovely man on his arm. 

“What about you, my lord?” The soft voice asks from his side.

“I’m sorry, Erasmus. I seem to have lost the thread of conversation.”

“What do you desire?” He flushes that pretty pink color when he asks and Torveld has to fight down his arousal once more.

“Many things,” he says in a tone to make the man blush. To Torveld’s joy, it works and the light pink darkens on Erasmus’s cheeks. “But first, I desire you to do away with the formalities.”

“Sire, I couldn’t possibly—” Erasmus starts to argue.

“I desire to court you and formalities will only hinder that.”

Erasmus ducks his head and his curls curtain his face. “I’m only a servant, my prince,” he says in a pained tone Torveld wishes to never hear again.

He leads the young man to a stone bench set in a bush of pink roses, the color dim compared to the cheeks of his companion. When they sit, Erasmus pulls his hand from Torveld’s arm to clasp together in his own lap. He still won’t look up.

Torveld strokes his fingers through blonde locks and they sift over his hand like the finest silk. He pushes the strands out of Erasmus’s face and the omega peeks up at him, unsettled and chewing his lip.

“There is no shame in your status. I am the younger brother to a great king. My whole life tutors and nobles have overlooked me and said I was lesser because I was younger. Do you think I am a lesser man?” Erasmus shakes his head so quickly his curls bounce. “Neither does my brother. He desires my happiness, no matter where it comes from. The court may whisper, but my brother is as loyal to my happiness as Kallias is to yours.”

Erasmus seems to think on this for a moment and Torveld gives him the quiet to do so, allowing himself to drink in that pretty face.

“You smell so good,” Erasmus admits with a lively flush of color again. “I worry I cannot withstand your charms.”

Torveld chuckles and reaches out to grasp one of Erasmus’s hands. “You are not alone in that worry. I’ve never reacted so strongly to an omega before.” He squeezes Erasmus’s hand gently. “I will try to court you slowly. I don’t wish to frighten you, Erasmus.”

“Thank you, Torveld.” His name is a hesitant whisper and to Torveld it has never sounded so lovely. He knows his grin is wide with his elation, but he cannot tamper the joy he feels. It radiates from his chest and warms his whole body.

They stay in the gardens for hours, speaking in soft tones and light laughter. Torveld tells Erasmus of his childhood and the trouble he seemed to always get in with Laurent and Auguste as a robust youth. Erasmus tells him of his own childhood adventures, Kallias always at his side, but speaks no more of his move from Akeilos to Vere a few years ago. Torveld doesn’t push. He brushes fingertips over the soft skin of Erasmus’s hand and wrist, content to listen to the young man spin stories the whole night

Eventually, Erasmus’s sweet voice is broken up by frequent yawns and they leave the gardens, Erasmus’s hand tucked into the bend of his arm again. Torveld guides the blonde to the small quarters he shares with Kallias and bids him good night with a gentle squeeze of his hand. He imagines that Erasmus looks disappointed that Torveld did not bestow a kiss upon his full lips, but he wants to prove he will not be ruled by his alpha instincts.

Still, the prince cannot help but take himself in hand the moment the door of his own quarters closes behind him. He comes to the thought of that pretty pout and cheeks the color of pink roses.


	4. Chapter 4

Dreams soft in color with the gentle patter of rain fill Erasmus’s mind until fingers grip his shoulder and shake. His eyes flutter open to see blue ones staring at him from only inches away. It is rare that Kallias wakes before him, but this seems to be one of those morning.

“Good morning, dearest! Did that alpha knot wear you out last night?” Kallias smile is too bright for so early in the morning. Erasmus groans and shoves him, but Kallias just laughs and knocks his hand away. They tussle, a flailing of arms and legs accompanied by soft growls. Kallias has the upper hand of being fully awake and soon pins Erasmus, sitting on his hips and pushing his wrists into the mattress on either side of his head. The blonde pants up at Kallias’s face, cheeks bright with exertion and joy.

“He must have kept you out late for you to be so tired this morning,” Kallias teases with untampered glee. “Usually you have to drag me out of bed.”

“Nothing happened,” Erasmus states and tries to push his wrists up to no avail. Kallias leans down and shoves his face against Erasmus’s neck. He breathes in deeply, snuffling along Erasmus’s neck, and Erasmus laughs and wiggles at the odd sensation. Dark curls tickle his nose and fill him with the sweet jasmine scent of his friend.

“Sweet as usual, but not soaked-with-slick sweet,” Kallias declares as he sits back, leaning his full weight on Erasmus’s hips. 

“Can we get up now?”

“Not until you tell me about your night with Prince Torveld.” The brunette clutches his hands together and bats his eyes. Erasmus huffs a little laugh and can feel his cheeks warm.

“I will as we open the library.”

The room is a little brighter than normal, telling Erasmus they slept past breakfast. He knows that it’s unlikely anyone will be waiting to get into the library, but he takes his duties seriously. Prince Laurent had secured him and Kallias the work detail together years ago and Erasmus was not going to dishonor his prince by shirking his responsibilities, even if he only desires to go back to sleep and dream about the dark prince of Patras.

They’re running late, but not too late to open the doors of the library on time. Erasmus sends Kallias to the kitchens to charm his way into a basket of rolls and maybe some hard cheese from one of the cooks. The head cook will probably curse him and threaten to chase him out with a broom, but she is smitten with Kallias’s sweet looks and bold personality and will undoubtedly send him off with an armful of food after the curt words.

Erasmus hurries to the library alone to find a stack of returned books waiting in the wooden crate by the door and a note from Prince Laurent requesting five titles to be sent to his rooms by midday. The blonde throws open the doors, lights the candle on the front table, and sets to work on the prince’s request. Moments later, Kallias comes in, all wide grins and stuffed cheeks.

“The cook gave us some honey,” he says and that explains his happiness. Honey is Kallias’s favorite treat and something the two can rarely afford with their meager salaries. 

Erasmus abandons his hunt for the last title Prince Laurent requested to sit and eat with Kallias. They share a small dish of honey and warm rolls and Erasmus recounts the details of his night with Torveld. Kallias’s smile wanes as the story continues until his lips are set in a deep frown.

“What is it?” Erasmus asks, pushing the last of the honey towards the brunette in hopes to make him happy again.

“Alpha returns today.”

Erasmus’s chest clenches at the reminder but before he can answer, he is interrupted by the sound of shoes against stone. Both omegas look up from where they are seated at the table to find Prince Torveld in the doorway, book tucked beneath his arm.

“Good morning, Kallias,” he says with a soft smile. Kallias jumps but returns the greeting with a shy smile of his own and a nod. “Erasmus.” That gentle gaze turns to him and Erasmus warms as though he has been lounging in the sun.

“How can we help you, sire?” Kallias asks when the pair gaze at each other a little too long without speaking.

“I’ve come to return this.” Torveld holds out the book Erasmus had given him yesterday.

“Finished already?” Kallias hops up and sets about checking the book and crossing it off the library’s log.

“Yes, I found it an enjoyable read and the perfect distraction for my nerves.”

“Nerves, my lord?” Kallias asks, teasing evident in his tone. Erasmus looks down at the measly remains of their breakfast.

“Yes, I was nervous about meeting a beautiful man in the gardens last night.”

“And how did that meeting go?” Erasmus can feel Kallias looking at him, probably smiling in that smug little way of his. Erasmus desires to throw his half-eaten roll at his friend’s head for his cheek, but his mortification has him picking it to pieces instead.

“It was an evening of lovely conversation with a lovelier companion.” Erasmus blushes and finally looks up at the fond tone of Torveld’s voice. The prince smiles at him and it mirrors the affection in his voice. “In fact, I was hoping to ask for another meeting tonight.”

“I’d love to,” Erasmus answers. They smile at each other for a moment more before Torveld takes his leave.

As soon as the sound of the prince’s footsteps fade, Kallias coos in Erasmus’s ear. This time, Erasmus chucks a roll at his head.

***  
For the third night in a row, Erasmus finds himself leaning against the balcony and gazing at the expansive city of Arles. His body thrums with anticipation of seeing Torveld again and he wishes he could calm the vibrating energy. It doesn’t help that Kallias spent most of the day teasing Erasmus about what the night could entail, his stories getting wilder and wilder with possibilities. At some point, he fantasized about Arles being attacked by a dragon and Torveld defending the palace armed with a kitchen knife to earn Erasmus’s heart.

He snorts at the memory. The scent of rain reaches him and a quick look at the starry sky tells him Torveld must have arrived.

“Good evening, Torveld,” he says as the prince leans against the balcony beside him. He leaves space between them like he has before, but Erasmus notices that it’s shorter.

“Good evening, Erasmus. It would bring me endless joy to walk the gardens with you again.”

With one phrase, Erasmus can already feel his face warm. “You must be the sweetest talker in all of Vere,” he says as he offers his hand for Torveld to take.

“I speak only the truth, I assure you.” 

Erasmus huffs. Flirtations come so easily to the prince, while Erasmus feels like all he does is blush and try desperately to stammer through a conversation. He is pleased when Torveld places his hand in the bend of his bare arm and cups it with his own larger hand again. For much of the day his thoughts were filled with the memory of the press of that muscle against his hand. He shifts his fingers to better grip Torveld’s firm bicep, trying to be subtle. The alpha chuckles and the muscle bulges under his touch, a sure sign that he was caught. He grins, sheepish, but Torveld only squeezes his fingers in response.

They walk the garden and chat lightly about their days: Erasmus’s filled with books and library visitors, and Torveld’s filled with trade negotiations. The conversation takes them all the way to the same bench they sat on the night before and in silent agreement, they sit again. 

Erasmus is disappointed to have to release Torveld’s arm and clasp his hands in his lap, unsure where else to put them but wishing he could continue touching the alpha beside him. A long arm wraps around his back and fingers grasp his waist, pulling his body flush against Torveld’s. His heart thumps hard against his chest and he looks up to find the prince gazing at him, hesitation clear in his eyes.

“Too much?” He shakes his head. “Good.”

“Will you, uh, tell me about Patras? I’ve never been there.”

Torveld’s eyes shine with happiness and his love for his land is obvious in his expression and his voice. Erasmus half-listens to the details of snow-peaked mountains and rolling green plains, letting himself bask in the sensations of having the strong alpha at his side. His voice is a low rumble Erasmus could listen to for hours. Erasmus’s side from hip to shoulder burns hot where he is pressed against the larger man. The arm around him makes his spine tremble, more so when the fingers against his waist brush down to his hip and back up. Torveld’s cool scent blankets the small alcove and Erasmus inhales deeply through his nose.

“Erasmus, are you listening?”

His eyes snap up in shock and he shakes his head to try and clear the sensations from his brain. “I’m sorry. Your voice…”

“My voice?” Torveld’s eyebrows furrow.

“It’s, um,” he stammers, and his face feels hot. “I just… really like your voice.” He looks down at his feet, wishing he could crawl beneath the bench they sit upon.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” Torveld says. Erasmus looks up, eyes wide, to see Torveld’s brown eyes flash with heat. “Will you allow me to?”

He feels himself nod. Then all he can feel is Torveld.

Torveld cups his jaw with his large hands and Erasmus trembles as he leans down. Soft lips press against his and Erasmus comes alive with sensation. His lips tingle as they move against Torveld’s and his jaw burns where Torveld’s fingers still cup it on either side, fingertips brushing against his sensitive neck. If he thought Torveld’s scent overwhelming before, it is a summer storm now. Everything smells of cool rain and alpha musk. Torveld seeks entrance into his mouth and Erasmus whimpers at the newest pleasurable sensation added to the tumult of sensation already warring across his body.

Torveld growls into his mouth and presses down harder until Erasmus can only grip onto his arms and submit to the pleasure of his mouth.

They part moments later and Erasmus’s head swims as he pants to catch his breath. 

“Too much?” Torveld asks with a sly smirk and Erasmus answers with a breathless laugh.

“Perhaps. But I want more.” He looks at Torveld through his long lashes and the alpha growls. The noise and the way Torveld grips his waist makes Erasmus shudder.

“Irresistible,” Torveld murmurs before Erasmus is awash with pleasure again.

He loses track of time, aware of nothing but the press of Torveld’s mouth and the way his strong hands cup his body. Torveld holds him as if he were made of the finest porcelain and it makes him feel delicate and cherished. 

They kiss for what could be hours, parting only to take gasping breaths and to smile at one another, Erasmus shy and Torveld pleased.

“The fuck is this?” comes a growl near the entrance to their little haven. 

They snap apart, Erasmus with a gasp and Torveld with a snarl as they turn to see who interrupted them.

Barely ten feet away, stands Govart. He is a lug of a man, taller than Torveld and wider by almost double, legs and arms thick like tree trunks. A smudge of dirt on his cheek and the sword that still hangs at his hip, tells Erasmus that he must have just returned from his journey moments ago. Fear shoots down Erasmus’s spine and the edge of his vision blurs, instinct tunneling his focus on the man before him. He must stiffen because Torveld’s hand rubs up and down his arm and Govart’s eyes narrow on the motion.

“Excuse us, sir,” Torveld says as diplomatic as ever, even with the growl lingering in his throat. “You’re upsetting my companion. I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Erasmus winces, knows this isn’t going to end well, and tries scoot away from Torveld on the bench.

Govart looks incredulous, Torveld’s words and the image before him taking his sluggish brain a moment to process. He tips back his head and laughs, loud and booming in the quiet of the garden. Erasmus jumps, that noise is laced in danger, and tries to push Torveld’s hand from his waist, but the alpha’s grip tightens.

“Well, _sir_ ,” the guard’s voice is full of mocking disdain, “your companion is my omega so I’ll have to ask you to unhand him.”

“I see no mating mark on him.”

Govart laughs again. He lunges forward, snatches Erasmus’s wrist, and yanks the omega so hard he stumbles up from the bench and slams into the alpha’s chest.

Torveld jumps to his feet, full throated snarl ripping from deep in his gut. Govart answers with his own snarl, Erasmus crushed to his solid chest. The alcove is filled with the stench and charged energy of angry alpha so suddenly Erasmus finds it hard to breath. His mind whirls as he tries to think of a way to stop the two from fighting, struggling against his instincts to supplicate and offer his neck to appease his alphas.

“Torveld,” he squeaks and the prince glances at him, then glares at Govart again. “He’s right. Please.”

In all his life, Erasmus has felt no greater pain than in that moment. Torveld’s eyes move to him again, only they are no longer kind, but full of cold scorn. His betrayal is obvious in the lines of Torveld’s face and the set of his deep frown. Erasmus’s heart clenches so tightly, he swears it stops beating. He hangs his head, tears burning his eyes. Torveld will surely abandon his courtship now, before Erasmus has a chance to explain. 

“It seems you’ve been tricked, sire,” Govart boasts. Erasmus wishes he would shut up, that he wouldn’t make the pain on Torveld’s face greater. “My slutty omega wanted to warm his bed after only three nights without me.” Thick fingers like ice trail up the back of his thigh, under his tunic, and grip the meat of his bottom with a force Erasmus knows will bruise. He yelps and tries to twist away, but Govart’s arm around his chest pulls him back into that rough grip.

“Unhand him!” Torveld yells. 

Govart laughs and his fingers twist against Erasmus’s skin, making the omega cry out. Torveld’s hand reaches for a sword that is not strapped to his hip, and Erasmus is glad that the prince didn’t think a night with him required a weapon. It would only make things worse.

“Torveld, please, don’t,” he says with a whimper. Knows the tears are obvious in his voice.

“Erasmus, I cannot allow this brute to hurt you.”

He shakes his head, his vision watery. He can’t see Torveld, just the blurry shape of him against pink and green. “He tells the truth.” The words feel like gravel in his throat, but he forces them out. “I’m his omega.”

There’s so much more, but he can’t explain now, not if he wants to keep the alphas from fighting. 

“Heard it from the bitch himself,” Govart declares, smug. With that, Erasmus is lifted bodily in the air and slung over Govart’s shoulder. The bone digs into his stomach, but that pain is nothing compared to the hurt mirrored on Torveld’s face. 

“I’m sorry,” Erasmus mouths as he is taken away by his alpha. His last glimpse of the garden is Torveld, crestfallen and surrounded by pink roses.

Govart carries him until they reach the stone archways of the palace, then drops him suddenly to the ground. Erasmus lands on stone, jolting his hip and the heel of his hand, but the pain is a small price to pay for the hurt he inflicted on Torveld. He pushes himself to stand, but wisely keeps his eyes trained on the ground beneath their feet instead of looking at Govart’s face. The alpha reeks of anger and Erasmus can see his limbs shaking with the power of it out of the corner of his eye. 

“What the fuck was that?”

“You can’t tell me who I can or can’t see,” Erasmus declares. The back of Govart’s hand cracks against his cheek and Erasmus’s vision swims as pain blooms on his face.

“The contract—” he starts but yelps when Govart yanks him forward.

Govart ignores him, grips his wrist hard enough to make his bones creak, and drags him down the hallway.

“Whorish little omega, desperate for anyone that will look your way.” Tears burn at Erasmus’s eyes, but he stays silent. He knows better than to argue with Govart in these moments.

Govart hurls insult after insult over his shoulder, voice like venom that sears Erasmus’s veins with shame as they make their way through the castle.

“Tell me, did you present as soon as you saw him?”

“Bet he gave it to you good, but his knot’s not as big as mine.”

“I should fill you up right here. Then everyone would know how much of a greedy harlot you are.”

They reach a split in the hallway. To go left, means to head towards the guards’ rooms and to go right will lead them to the servants’ rooms. Govart hesitates and his hand clenches Erasmus’s wrist hard to prevent the omega from fleeing to his rooms. Terror grips Erasmus. It’s been years since Govart has taken him out of heat, but the man is so angry. 

Govart drags him right and Erasmus feels relief like a draught of cold water. The alpha may be angry, but he still prefers women and Erasmus is too old to smell as sweet as a girl, except in heat.

When the door to the omega’s room comes into view, Erasmus thinks for one euphoric moment that he’s safe, that Govart will leave him and he will be free to find comfort in Kallias’s embrace. Silly of him really; nothing has ever been so easy. 

Govart shoves him and his back slaps hard against the wall. He yelps and falls forward with the impact, but the alpha crowds him back against the rough surface. Fingers snatch his hair and pull until his back arches painfully, shoving his chest against the hard body in front of him. 

“Let’s see if that alpha comes anywhere near you when you smell like me.” His eyes glint with danger and he rubs against Erasmus’s front, smothering the smaller man against the wall. He yanks Erasmus’s head to the side, shoves his face into his collarbone, and licks long, wet lines up the side of his neck to his chin. Erasmus whimpers as that slippery tongue curls over his chin.

He tries to think about anything other than the alpha marking his body in his rank scent. His mind turns to Torveld but he pushes the thoughts away as quickly as they’ve come. He doesn’t want to taint his memory of the man with… _this_.

Govart’s hands clamp onto his hips, twist him around, and shove his chest against the wall. His already sore cheek scrapes against the coarse stone and he bites his lip to keep from crying out. The alpha presses against him and he can feel the hard outline of his cock against his backside. Bile splashes in his throat as Govart ruts against him but he can only close his eyes and wish for it to be over.

Govart buries his nose against Erasmus’s nape and inhales deeply. “Mmmmmm,” he breathes into blonde curls. Hot shame swells in Erasmus’s chest and tears prick the corners of his eyes. He chokes them down, not willing to give Govart the satisfaction of his tears. Not again.

Rough fingers grip the hair at the base of his skull, drag Erasmus stumbling down the hallway, and finally shove him into the room, hard enough that he trips over his feet and crashes to the ground.

“Erasmus!” Kallias cries out as he scrambles to the other omega’s side. His hands hover over Erasmus’s body, unsure what to touch and how to help best.

“K-Kal,” Erasmus chokes out. Familiar thin arms wrap around his shoulders and a slim chest presses to his own as carefully as Kallias can manage. The tight hold Erasmus kept on his emotions melts away and tears pour down his face, unbidden and unstoppable. Sobs wrack his chest and he clutches desperately at Kallias’s skin and tunic.

“You’re okay. I have you. You’re okay,” Kallias murmurs in his ear, rocking him back and forth on the cold floor.


	5. Chapter 5

Prince Torveld of Patras considers himself an unflappable man. He goes to great lengths to control his baser instincts, refusing to be known as an alpha with rage and lust and the political clout to fulfill those desires, like many alphas with an ounce of prestige. This morning, Torveld finds his great control lacking.

He stinks of anger and occasionally, he growls at nothing but his memories. His hand clenches the hilt of a sword he didn’t wear last night, a mistake he will not make again in this court of snakes. His feet pound against the stone hallway that leads to the only place in the palace he will find answers. The hallways are bare of even servants this early in the morning, the sun an hour from rising, and he meets no one.

The guards that flank either side of the great wooden door tense when he rounds the corner. Their hands go to their own hilts in sight of his anger and he almost wants them to draw, to give him something to fight since he cannot fight his memories. They recognize him and hesitate and that is all the opening he needs.

“Oi!” one yells as he throws the door open between them without a word and stalks into the room. 

The room is already bathed in firelight, the sole occupant awake long before sunrise to take his daily ride. Laurent sits on one of the plush settees, his foot propped against a small table as he laces his riding boot—he swears it feels odd when the servants do it. He looks up at Torveld’s entrance and a lesser man would think he completely unsurprised by the alpha storming into his room, but Torveld sees the slight twitch in his fingers against fine leather.

The hesitant guards seem to remember their duty and follow him through the archway with the sound of steel blades sliding through sheaths.

“Leave us,” Laurent says, eyes trained on Torveld’s stormy face.

_At least they listen_ , Torveld thinks as the door shuts behind the two guards, leaving him alone with his friend. Laurent seems unperturbed at his anger and returns to lacing his riding boots without a word.

Torveld cannot stay still; his anger will not allow it. He stalks the room, pacing back and forth before the fire, warm flames nothing compared to the searing heat in his chest. Laurent ties off his second boot, then props both feet on the table and turns cool eyes on him.

“Tell me,” he says simply and Torveld growls.

“Did you know Erasmus is taken?”

A slight twitch of a blonde eyebrow tells Torveld everything. Laurent keeps his expression smooth, but Torveld has known him for half of his life, has seen a young child grow into a young man as he himself grew. 

“You knew,” he breathes, and the betrayal is heavy where it lays atop the betrayal of the night before.

“Tell me what happened.” 

Torveld recounts the details of the night: walking Erasmus through the gardens, kissing those sweet lips, being interrupted by a brutish alpha, and watching helplessly as that alpha stole his lovely omega from him.

Laurent is quiet at the end of his tale, studied gaze taking in the details of Torveld, sitting bent on the settee, head in his hands. His anger dissipated with his retelling until all he can feel is betrayal that bends his spine and slumps his shoulders.

“Did you know Erasmus was sworn to an alpha?” His voice is meek, but he is too tired after a night of unrest to correct it.

“Erasmus is part of a harem with no choice,” Laurent says. Torveld eyebrows draw together in confusion. Harems—where one alpha mates with multiple omegas—are popular among nobility and those with the wealth to provide for or power to protect multiple mates, but they aren’t compulsory.

“No choice? Veretian laws are like Patras. Omegas cannot be forced into a harem.” _Or mated for that matter_ , he thinks. He knows the laws. He studied them as he grew up, priming himself for when he would be an ambassador to his friend’s land. “Has the alpha—”

“Govart,” Laurent supplies. Even his name is ugly.

“Has Govart mated him?” Laurent shakes his head and Torveld feels a small pinpoint of relief in his otherwise black thoughts. “Then why does he stay?”

“Erasmus will tell you when he is ready. Rest assured, you are free to court him.”

Torveld’s mind whirls with the information. “He is sworn to Govart’s harem, but he is not mated, and I am free to court him?” 

“Until an omega receives and gives a mating mark, they are free to consider other suitors.”

“I know the laws, Laurent. Do not patronize me,” he says with a frustration he does not really feel, too consumed with confusion and anger at Govart to spend any on the blonde. Blue eyes study his face in silence, Laurent’s expression empty of his thoughts as he does so. It is only years of bearing the same, intense look that keeps Torveld from wanting to squirm. 

Laurent comes to a silent decision. “I would suggest discretion,” he says. “Govart is a jealous bastard who was not told ‘no’ enough as a child or an adult for that matter.” The words strike Torveld as ironic coming from the mouth of a man with a brother as indulgent as Auguste.

“And if I challenge Govart for the way he treats his omega?” 

“That would be… ill-advised.” 

“Laurent, there is something you’re not telling me.” 

“There is much I’m not telling you. It is Erasmus’s to tell.”

Doubt crosses his face and Laurent rests a hand lightly on his forearm, close to where Erasmus’s fingers gripped yesterday as he shook in Torveld’s arms. “I swear to you, my friend, that I am doing all I can. For now, be discreet but do not allow a possessive alpha to keep you from the one you care for.”

“Can I not fight this?”

Laurent shakes his head with a sad little smile. “It’s… complicated.”

Torveld sighs, the sound coming deep from his toes. “I do not like feeling as if I am sneaking around like some deceitful adulterer.”

“You are not. Erasmus is free to be courted by whoever he chooses. Govart chooses to forget that detail.”

“None of this makes sense.”

Laurent looks to the window where the sky lightens with the rising sun. “The library will be opening soon.”

***  
The castle hallways are not as barren as before, servants no longer just waking up or preparing the morning meal in the kitchen. Torveld passes a few men and women on his path, but none glance at him in worry, which tells him he no longer stinks with rage. The anger is still there, on the periphery of his mind, but confusing thoughts of alpha and omega laws and Laurent’s words take precedence. The doors of the library are already open when he turns the corner and he takes a deep breath to steel himself before walking into the room.

The library is empty, pleasantly lit, and quiet like every morning he has visited. Erasmus and Kallias stand behind the wooden table at the front, bent to the task of perusing books for damage and sorting them into different piles Torveld does not know the purpose of. Both omegas freeze at his entrance and stare at him with twin looks of shock.

Kallias is first to recover. He steps around the table and plants himself halfway between Torveld and Erasmus, arms spread wide as if he could block the prince’s path. Torveld stops before him, silent as he waits for the young man to explain his actions.

Kallias is as lovely as Erasmus with dark brown hair that hangs around his ears in a fluffy crown. His wide set eyes are the deepest blue Torveld has ever seen, sapphire in color with flecks of other blues throughout. His skin is darker than Erasmus’s, the olive trademark of Akeilos, and there is a small smattering of freckles across his nose that Torveld can only see from this close. He smells of jasmine and, while the scent is not as effective as Erasmus’s, it is pleasant to Torveld. 

“You can’t come in if you plan to hurt Erasmus,” Kallias says with conviction. His arms tremble where he holds them spread, betraying the confidence of his glare at the prince. He’s scared and the realization warms Torveld with affection for his endearing bravery.

Torveld smiles and fiddles behind his back with the item he detoured to pick on his way to the library. 

“You are a great friend, Kallias.” He pulls a single pink rose from the bundle in his hands and extends it to the now blushing omega. “I swear on my honor that I am not here to hurt Erasmus, only to talk to him.”

Kallias’s reddened cheeks and naturally wide eyes make him look sweet as he accepts the rose with a tentative hand. He studies Torveld’s face and whatever he finds makes him nod his head once. Decision made, he grins and turns away. 

“Erasmus,” he says as he pulls a book from a nearby shelf without looking at the title, “you should really take this book to Sir Jord. He requested it delivered with all haste.”

“I see no request—” Kallias shoves the book into Erasmus’s hand.

“I’ll manage the library while you’re making deliveries.”

Torveld cannot help but grin at the clever omega. “It would be my pleasure to accompany you during your task,” he adds as he approaches the table the blonde has yet to move from. Erasmus frowns at him, eyebrows creased like they do when he is confused. His right cheek is mottled with purple bruising covered in the red pinpricks of a scrape. Hot anger sparks in Torveld’s chest but he stifles the emotion, desperate to make amends with the omega, not to frighten him with his own anger.

“I’ve brought you something.” From behind his back, he extends a bunch of roses, five in number now that he has gifted one to Kallias. The roses are pink in shade to match the frequent blush of Erasmus’s cheeks and cut from the same bush that bore witness to their first kiss. “I’m sorry for my anger last night,” he says.

Erasmus’s eyes widen, and he takes the roses with trembling fingers. “Torveld, you… I…”

Torveld smiles. “Will you allow me to escort you?”

Erasmus swallows and nods, staring at the roses instead of at the prince. Kallias plucks the bushel out of his hands. “I’ll put them in water. Go already!” Torveld could kiss him for his help, but he simply smiles at Kallias and holds out his arm for Erasmus to take.

The pair leaves the library, Erasmus’s hands empty of Jord’s book.

They walk in silence, Torveld guiding them to a place he knows they will not run into Govart or be interrupted: his own rooms. He will not take Erasmus inside, it is too early in their courtship to do so, but there is a private window nook at the end of the hallway occupied only by his rooms and those of his captain.

As they walk, he studies Erasmus, looking for injuries on the omega’s thin frame. His eyes are heavy with dark circles Torveld is sure mirror his own. His bruised cheek looks worse this close, an ugly hue of purple and green overlaid with red cuts. Torveld sniffs inconspicuously. The normal smell of oranges and honey is smothered by sweet jasmine and beneath that a layer of alpha musk that makes Torveld’s nose scrunch in disgust. Anger tries to take hold of him but he forces it down again. The emotion will only impede his true desire: to clear Erasmus’s face of his worry and see him smile again.

They reach the window seat and Erasmus puts distance between them as they both sit upon it. Torveld allows the distance, even though all he wants is to pull the younger man into his side. Erasmus curls in on himself, stares at the floor beneath their sandaled feet, and clenches his hands in his lap. Instinct makes Torveld ache to comfort him, but he stifles the desire. They need to speak about this.

“I—I’m so sorry, Torveld,” Erasmus gasps. His voice shakes with emotion. “I should have told you.”

“Yes, you should have.”

Erasmus’s eyes brim with tears and he turns his face away to keep it from Torveld. If there’s one thing Torveld cannot bear, it is the sight of a pretty omega in tears. He lays a hand on the omega’s shoulder and Erasmus flinches from the touch. Torveld won’t let him go that easily. He grasps Erasmus’s shoulder again and this time Erasmus turns around, face streaked with fresh tears.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes and squeezes his eyes shut tight.

Torveld hushes him and cups his cheeks with his hands to brush his tears away, careful of his bruised skin. “I’m not mad at you, Erasmus,” he whispers and finds that what he says is true. He’s tired, confused, and he wants to put this behind them. He presses a gentle kiss to Erasmus’s forehead. “I only wish to talk to you.”

“You should hate me.” Erasmus sniffles.

Torveld huffs a chuckle. “Never.”

The tears slow and eventually stop. Honey eyes rimmed in red finally meet Torveld’s gaze and the prince smiles.

“There’s my beautiful omega,” he says, affection warm in his voice. “And his pretty blush,” he adds when Erasmus’s cheeks tinge pink.

The blonde’s cheeks redden further, but his smile is pleased, if still a little watery. In silent agreement, the pair separates to how they were sitting before, only this time, Torveld holds one pale hand in his lap, unwilling to part completely from the other man.

“I’m sure you have questions,” Erasmus starts.

“Yes, many. Other than this,” he indicates the marred cheek, “did he hurt you?” Erasmus shakes his head. “Did he…?” He won’t say the words, but they both know that alphas are stronger than omegas, especially when furious, and many omegas have been… taken advantage of in that way.

“No!” Erasmus exclaims, then softer. “No…” He stares unseeing down the hallway, trapped in some thought he doesn’t share with Torveld.

The older man squeezes his hand gently and it’s enough to snap him out of his trance. “Laurent told me that you are a part of a harem against your will, but that you are not Govart’s mate.”

“Yes, I can only leave if I’m mated, but I need his permission to mate.”

Torveld’s eyebrows rise in surprise. This is more than Laurent told him and seems an impossible task. “Why does he have so much control over you?”

“Kallias too,” Erasmus mutters.

“Kallias is a part of your harem?” A nod. “My question still stands.”

“I, um…” He hesitates and rubs his mouth in thought, then winces when the motion irritates his cheek.

Realization throbs a familiar pain in Torveld’s chest, betrayal all too frequent the last two days. “You don’t want to tell me,” he breathes. 

The omega’s head hangs and he chews his bottom lip. “I am… ashamed.”

Torveld has to rein a tumult of emotions at the statement: anger at Govart, sympathy for Erasmus, and guilt for making the man hurt more. He clasps a gentle hand on Erasmus’s bare shoulder, skin smooth and soft against his palm.

“You can tell me when you are ready.”

“Th-thank you, Torveld. I don’t deserve your patience.”

Torveld smiles and clasps the hand in his lap again. “I’d still like to court you.”

“B-but… you—I um…”

Torveld laughs as Erasmus stammers and then flushes, a mix of embarrassment and elation. “Did you think one alpha would be enough to keep me from you?”

“Truthfully it is more complicated than that.”

“I know,” he cups the bruised cheek with a gentle hand again. He has no more answers than when he left Laurent, only more questions. Still, he cannot stifle the attraction he possesses for the sweet, gentle man at his side. “I will see you out of this, Erasmus. And I will challenge him for how he treats you.”

Something like terror flashes across Erasmus’s face and he grasps one of the alpha’s hands in both of his. “You can’t, Torveld. Swear to me that you won’t.”

“Erasmus, he has hurt you, trampled your honor.” Erasmus shakes his head and Torveld can see the fine tremble that courses through his spine. _Another mystery,_ he thinks with a sigh. “Fine. Though if he harms you like this again,” he brushes that rough cheek with his thumb as gently as possible, “I will not be able to stop myself.”

Erasmus nods, resigned, and glances around the empty hallway. “I should return to the library.” He looks up at Torveld as if he wants to say something but is too afraid to.

“Ask.”

“Will you,” he hesitates, worry clear on his expression, “kiss me?”

In that moment, Erasmus has never looked sweeter: eyes unsure, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and lips tilted up in a hesitant and shy smile. The desire to show the omega to his room, lay him upon soft sheets, and devour him washes over Torveld in a wave of heat. 

“Of course.” He kisses lips sweet as Erasmus’s honey scent.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting! I was out of town for the March for Our Lives in DC. I'll be more consistent with posting every other day, promise!

After their conversation, Erasmus left Torveld at the door of his rooms to find rest as he joined Kallias in the library. The brunette practically pounced on him the moment he walked through the door, eager for details and beside himself with worry. Kallias’s devotion will never cease to amaze Erasmus and he shared the details of the conversation as they completed their tasks. The library had its share of visitors in the later morning: an old woman seeking wisdom on her garden, a child obsessed with knights and battles, and a quiet omega trying to learn to read. 

Around midday, the timid omega leaves with a small bundle of children’s books after thanking Kallias and Erasmus multiple times for their impromptu tutoring lessons.

“I hope she comes back,” Kallias says as he rights chairs they were just using and clears parchments from one of the tables meant for visitors. “I’d like to keep teaching her.” 

Erasmus hums his agreement. Part of their job tending the library is being able to read and write. They must be able to recommend any of the books in their possession to the patrons of the library. When a book is too damaged, or the ink of a page smudged, it falls on them to repair it by copying the words and replacing the page.

“She was very sweet,” he adds as an afterthought, mind preoccupied with his morning conversation with Torveld. His eyes fall on the vase of five roses in the corner of the front table and he rubs a petal gently between his thumb and forefinger. Kallias catches him and grins his happy little grin, his own rose clipped and tucked behind his ear.

The midday bell tolls and Kallias slings an arm around his shoulder.

“It’s your turn,” he practically singsongs in Erasmus’s ear. Erasmus sighs, ducks out of his friend’s embrace, and goes to leave the library to collect their lunch from the kitchen among the crowds of servants doing the same. He rounds the corner not five steps from the library and almost runs face first into a familiar chest. He jerks back before they collide and Torveld lunges forward to steady him before he trips over his own feet.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” he says, head bowed to the prince.

Torveld chuckles. “No harm done, Erasmus, except for calling me ‘my lord’ again.”

Erasmus feels his face warm with embarrassment and fingers tilt his chin up. “I jest,” Torveld says and places a chaste kiss to his lips. He takes the omega’s hand in his own and guides him back to the library, a bundle that smells of food grasped in his free hand.

“That was fast,” Kallias calls at the sound of their footsteps, back turned as he rearranges a shelf of books.

“Well, I do pride myself on efficiency,” Torveld replies. Kallias whirls around, surprise etched on his face, and Torveld chuckles as Erasmus hides his grin behind his hand.

“I didn’t know you would be joining us, sire.” The omega jumps to his feet and straightens his tunic, brushing hands over imaginary dirt and creases.

“Neither did Erasmus. Are you allowed to take a meal at the same time?”

“As long as one of us helps anyone who comes in,” Erasmus answers.

Torveld smiles and kisses the back of his hand. “Perfect.”

Erasmus clears the front table of their work as Kallias brings over another chair and Torveld begins to unpack his bundle of food. Soon the table is covered in their meal: one large loaf of bread, pieces of salted pork and hard cheese, and a bunch of grapes. The three set upon their meal, passing the bread to be torn and eating the food with their fingers.

“The flower suits you, Kallias,” Torveld says 

Kallias blushes and swallows his morsel. “Thank you, my lord.”

“There is no need for formalities. I think we’ll be spending a lot of time together in the coming weeks.”

Blue eyes widen and Erasmus giggles, sure he looked the same when Torveld granted him the same permission. “But—”

“He won’t take no for an answer, Kallias,” he says with a smile.

“Yes, I am quite stubborn in that way.”

The omega’s mouth hangs open. “I think you’ve surprised him,” Erasmus cannot help but tease.

“Kallias speechless, what a sight.”

“Hey!” Kallias protests and then flushes dark when Torveld and Erasmus laugh. It feels good to laugh, the joy bubbling up in Erasmus’s chest and bursting from his lips. His cheek is sore from grinning, skin taut and swollen.

The group falls silent for a moment, each turning their attention back to the food before them. Torveld breaks the silence. “Erasmus and I have gotten to know each other the past few nights, but I don’t know much about you, Kallias. Tell me about yourself.”

Kallias hesitates, probably unsure of where to start, and then launches into a story about growing up on the streets of Ios. Erasmus allows himself to lose focus; he’s known Kallias since they were children and has either been a part of or privy to every story the other man can share. 

His mind wanders as his friend and his… Torveld speak, voices mingling into a quiet murmur at the back of his thoughts. Kallias is so expressive when he speaks, eyes glowing with every emotion and mouth stretching into smiles and frowns as the story calls for it. He’s different from Erasmus: louder and braver than the blonde could ever dream of being. Kallias laughs at something Torveld said. His eyes glint with joy and his thin shoulders shake as he claps his hands together like he sometimes does when he’s overexcited. Erasmus swells with tenderness.

He turns his focus to Torveld and that tenderness doubles as soon as his eyes settle on the large man at his side. He remembers the despair from last night as he broke apart in Kallias’s arms, finally letting go of the terror that gripped him as Govart touched him and the pain of leaving his prince in the garden. He woke this morning thinking he would never see Torveld again, but the alpha surprised him with unmatched understanding and patience. 

Fingers brush across his knee and Erasmus jumps in his chair. “Are you alright?” Torveld asks. Two sets of worried eyes are watching him, and Erasmus feels his cheeks warm a little. He nods. Kallias smiles and starts to describe the beaches of Ios. Torveld straightens in his chair and his hand starts to slip from Erasmus’s leg. The omega covers his hand with his own and presses it back to his bare knee. Torveld glances at him out of the corner of his eye and squeezes his knee gently.

Erasmus’s focus shifts from the discussion to his worries about Govart and Torveld. Calloused fingers stroke back and forth across his skin and his stresses seem easier to think through with Torveld’s comforting touch to ground him.


	7. Chapter 7

The days pass and blurr into weeks. Torveld greets each morning before sunrise and throws on a pair of riding pants and a long sleeve shirt to ward off the cool mornings. He meets Laurent at the stables and the two enjoy a pleasant morning ride before most of the castle and surrounding city is even awake. They chat about trivial things, argue about trade and policy, and confide in one another. Torveld gushes about his courtship with Erasmus and the time he spends with him and Kallias. Laurent admits to writing to Damen, but won’t elaborate no matter how much Torveld asks.

It’s peaceful and Torveld is happy to join his dearest companion on what he knows is the younger man’s favorite private activity. Laurent is a skilled rider, probably the most skilled in all the surrounding lands, and Torveld enjoys watching him ride, even if that means he loses most of their impromptu races.

They return to the castle for breakfast and morning activities that vary every day. Sometimes, Torveld is lead to the throne room to mingle with diplomats from other cities. Or to Auguste’s rooms to lounge and enjoy the brothers’ company. Or to meeting rooms to argue with the quick minds of both Laurent and Auguste, trying to find terms of alliance that benefit both countries more than the last agreement. Or to the training grounds to watch younger men hone their sword skill and footwork only to be beaten by him. 

Auguste suggests a two-day hunting trip at some point and Torveld finds himself declining his favorite Veretian pastime in lieu of his new favorite.

He becomes a regular fixture in the palace library. Most afternoons, he spends time in the library surrounded by the scent of old tomes mixed with honey, oranges, and jasmine. He’s worried at first about getting Kallias and Erasmus in trouble for shirking their duties, but the two men are efficient. They complete their daily tasks before he arrives and trade off helping library patrons so that at least one of them can always sit with Torveld.

Torveld finds he enjoys each moment he gets with both men, not just Erasmus. Kallias is open to him from the start, louder than Erasmus but more sensitive in ways. And Erasmus, well, Torveld could write poetry about his infatuation of the sweet omega that opens to him in increments of trust. He still hasn’t told Torveld the finer details of his arrangement with Govart, but both omegas have confided more about their relationship with the brutish alpha. 

He remembers one day when the sharp tang of alpha musk covered Kallias’s pleasant scent and made Torveld wrinkle his nose.

“Did he hurt you?” he snarled before he could cool his anger.

Kallias blushed and shook his head. “No, he was just… being Govart.” Torveld didn’t like the answer and it must have showed on his face because Kallias laid a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m fine, alpha.” That sweet voice calling him alpha washed his anger away and filled him with a different heat altogether, one only Erasmus had invoked in him in recent days. 

Erasmus joined them then and did not seem perturbed about the other omega touching Torveld or the slight tang of alpha arousal in the air.

Both omegas assured him that things with Govart had gone back to normal: Govart chasing any skirt on a pretty omega girl and leaving them relatively alone and unscathed. At first, Torveld doesn’t trust what they say. He watches Erasmus and Kallias daily for signs of bruising or worse, but no new injury occurs, and Erasmus’s cheek slowly fades to yellow and then smooth alabaster. 

His worry lessens the more time he spends with the two men. Most days, the three spend together in the library, conversation ranging from trivial topics to more personal ones. Erasmus will read to the other two sometimes, his lilting voice making both men smile as they listen. Kallias keeps them abreast of the latest court gossip. Torveld teaches them a Patran card game played with two decks. Erasmus prefers to watch but Kallias is a fierce opponent and Torveld finds himself losing as often as he wins a game he’s played since he was a child.

Some days, Kallias offers to cover the library and give the pair privacy with which to continue their courtship. They progress with intimate conversation and gentle caresses over clothing, until some of Torveld’s most cherished memories of Vere are replaced with memories of Erasmus’s sighs in his ear and lithe body beneath his hands. 

A few weeks after the incident with Govart, Torveld enters the empty library to find Erasmus already waiting eagerly by the door. He slides his hand into the alpha’s larger one and waves goodbye to Kallias before leading Torveld to their regular place: the window nook outside the prince’s rooms.

“You seem to be in high spirits today,” Torveld observes as the blonde practically skips down the halls.

“Can I not be happy to see the man I care for so deeply?” The smile that hasn’t left Erasmus’s lips brightens with his teasing and Torveld chuckles at the sight. His heart throbs and it is in that moment he knows the inevitable has happened: he is in love with Erasmus. 

He stops in the middle of the hallway and the movement jerks Erasmus so that he almost tumbles backwards. Torveld catches the omega easily in his arms and kisses him, pouring his devotion into the movement of his lips.

Erasmus shoves at his shoulders and Torveld lets him go. “Wait until we are in private,” he scolds, but his little smile gives away his secret pleasure at the kiss. Torveld knows his grin is goofy with his love for the man and he follows his sweet omega without accosting him again.

They reach the nook and Torveld wastes no time connecting their lips again. Erasmus giggles against his mouth and Torveld takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss until his giggles turn into a pleasured gasp. The omega wraps thin arms around his broad shoulders and presses their chests together. Torveld can already feel how his body trembles. He has learned over the past few weeks that Erasmus cannot keep still when faced with any pleasurable sensation. His body is constantly moving, chest rising and falling as he pants, or spine trembling, or hips and fingers twitching as Torveld pleasures him.

Between Torveld’s desire to court Erasmus properly and Erasmus’s fear of infuriating Govart, they haven’t progressed past passionate kissing and gentle, almost chaste caresses. But today, Torveld thinks that may change. Erasmus is wearing a short tunic that barely reaches mid-thigh and gapes at the sides, fabric split so his entire side from armpit to hip is exposed. All that creamy skin open to his touch makes it hard for Torveld to think about anything else.

He rests his hands on that slim waist, skin warm beneath his palm, and grins into the kiss when Erasmus shudders against him. He keeps his hands there, focusing on teasing the omega with flicks of his tongue. When Erasmus relaxes against him, a tiny release of tense anticipation, he moves his hands up to cup his ribcage and brushes his thumbs over small nipples. At the same time, he pulls back from the kiss, eager to hear Erasmus’s unmuffled reaction.

Erasmus moans, a pretty noise that makes heat pool in Torveld’s lap. He studies Erasmus’s face: cheeks forever dusted in pink, lips shiny with spit and swollen from kissing, and honey eyes hooded and unfocused already. He rubs his thumbs over Erasmus’s nipples again and the omega moans and his eyes flutter. Torveld groans.

“I cannot resist you,” he growls. He buries his face in that long neck and covers it with kisses and playful nips. His thumbs continue to tease now peaked nipples and Erasmus becomes a chorus of sighs, gasps, and soft moans, each noise breathier than the last. The sweet smell of honey and oranges swells around them and Torveld breathes it in deeply. He knows Erasmus is wet with slick and that only makes his cock twitch, eager to bury himself into that warm cavern. 

“Please, Erasmus,” his voice is wrecked with desire, but he doesn’t care about decorum when his omega smells so sweet and sounds so pretty and his alpha-side knows they can make him feel even better. “Allow us to lay together.”

That sweet scent turns sharp with fear and Torveld pulls away, lifting his hands from Erasmus’s body. He refuses to be like other alphas, taking what isn’t explicitly granted him, and if Erasmus smells like that, he isn’t giving permission even if he doesn’t voice his refusal.

“I’m sorry,” Torveld says, looking down at his own hands in his lap, “I pushed you too far.”

Small hands cover his and squeeze gently until he looks up at Erasmus, whose shy smile fills Torveld with relief. “I enjoyed your attentions.”

“But?” he prods, knowing there is more to Erasmus’s thoughts.

“I’m worried we will go too far. That Govart will smell you and…” He looks away now, studying the grounds outside the glass beside them and chewing his bottom lip as he does when he is anxious.

“I want to take you away from here. To Patras, where Govart has no power over you.” 

Erasmus’s spine stiffens. “I won’t leave Kallias. Not with Govart.”

“I would never part you.” Torveld smiles and tugs the abused lip from between Erasmus’s teeth with a gentle thumb. 

Erasmus seems to relax at that as if he truly feared Torveld would take him away from the other omega that is so dear to him. Silence fills the space between them. Erasmus stares out the window again and Torveld watches him, trying to sort through his own thoughts to break the tension that has settled between them. He clasps one of Erasmus’s hands and pulls it into his lap to hold.

“I have been quiet for weeks now, Erasmus. Please tell me, what does he have over you?”

Those sweet eyes search his face and Torveld can practically see the thoughts battling in Erasmus’s mind. He keeps his face open in what he hopes is a trustworthy expression and gives the blonde the silence and patience he needs. Decision made, Erasmus turns fully towards Torveld instead of the window.

“You know that Kallias and I grew up in Ios.” Torveld nods. “When Kallias was fourteen, he presented as an omega and caught the attention of an alpha, Kastor.”

“Prince Damianos’s brother? How?”

Erasmus shrugs. “We were in the market one day and I guess Kastor smelled him. He used to have hair down to his waist, thick dark curls so pretty people mistook him for a girl all the time.

“Well Kastor thought he was beautiful and he was relentless. Kallias tried to say no and tried to avoid him. He even chopped all his hair off. He said Kastor smelled like mud.” Erasmus smiles a little at that, but his eyes are dull with painful memories.

“Did Kastor…?”

Erasmus shakes his head. “We left. Kallias was close to his heat and Kastor had been sniffing around and we knew there was no way we were going to be able to keep Kallias safe. So we used most of our money and bought our way onto a merchant’s cart to Arles where Kastor wouldn’t be able to follow. You can imagine how that went.”

Torveld can. In Arles, two young omegas wouldn’t find much opportunity for work outside of the seedier brothels on the outskirts of town.

“You were poor,” he says, trying to be diplomatic.

Erasmus frowns, a twist of lips full of such sharp sadness it makes Torveld’s heart ache. “We were _starving_. Govart offered us a place to stay, protection, food.” 

“And in return?” Torveld asks and squeezes Erasmus’s hand tight. He can imagine what an alpha like Govart would expect.

“He owns us both.”

Torveld’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Owns?”

“We’re not palace servants, Torveld,” he says, staring down at his own lap, shame making his cheeks an ugly pink. “We’re slaves.”

Shock washes over Torveld and he can feel his eyes widen to the size of large coins. “But slavery is an ancient practice!” It isn’t possible. Slavery was abolished across the lands before Torveld’s father was even born. 

Erasmus shrugs. “Prince Laurent has read the contract. He doesn’t like it, but it’s valid. The Regent drafted it.”

“Of course, he did,” Torveld growls. He remembers Laurent’s uncle, a man who’s cunning had caused more problems for the golden-haired brothers than Torveld could name. 

“Can you understand now why I didn’t want to tell you? Why it is hard to allow our courtship to go further?” Tears well in Erasmus’s eyes and slip down his cheeks. “Govart will never allow me to mate with you.”

Torveld’s thoughts rush and blur together, a whirl of new information that he cannot process quick enough. 

“I’ll kill him,” he declares. “Then there will be no more contract.”

Erasmus laughs, the sound bitter and foreign coming from the usually sweet omega. “Then the contract will go to the Regent and Kallias and I will be forced to Chastillon.”

Auguste banished the Regent to the fort in one of his first acts as king, hopeful it was far enough away the Regent could not cause trouble but close enough for the brothers to intervene if he did.

“I don’t understand,” Torveld admits. He looks down, eyes unseeing, as he tries to sort his thoughts and come up with a way out of this. Gentle hands cup his cheeks and tilt his face up to meet Erasmus’s eyes. His eyes are slightly puffy from crying and tears stain his cheeks and the cloth of his tunic. Torveld’s heart clenches at the sight and he desires nothing more than to protect Erasmus from this.

“You cannot save me,” Erasmus says as if he heard Torveld’s thoughts. His voice is thick with sorrow. “You can end our courtship. I understand.”

Torveld stiffens in shock. It takes a moment for him to understand what Erasmus proposed. 

He lunges forward and wraps Erasmus in his arms, practically crushing the slighter man to his chest. Slim arms circle around his back and hands clench his tunic into tight fistfuls of fabric. 

“Never,” he swears into soft curls. “I will see you out of this.” Torveld holds Erasmus close as the man trembles but doesn’t cry until his body stops shaking with his emotion. He kisses that precious forehead and vows silently to see Erasmus and Kallias freed by summer’s end.


	8. Chapter 8

Torveld leaves Erasmus in the library, face washed of the evidence of his tears but eyes still full of a sorrow Torveld cannot erase even with his kisses or claims of affection. He hopes Kallias’s infectious smile and sweet disposition will help pull Erasmus from his darker thoughts. He has a few hours left before supper and there is only one place in the entire land he will find the answers he seeks.

He knocks on the door this time to the immense relief of the posted guards and opens it when he hears Laurent call from within. The prince’s rooms are warm and bathed in sunlight from the large windows that overlook the forest behind Arles. The summer breeze drifts through open balcony doors and for a moment, Torveld thinks Laurent is outside until he hears the man clear his throat.

Laurent leans casually against the archway that leads to his study, arms crossed over his chest and a look of pure annoyance on his expression.

“Have I interrupted something?” Torveld asks. He doesn’t offer to come back because unless Laurent is hiding a lover in his study, he isn’t leaving. He needs answers.

“Another letter from Damianos.” Laurent flicks the sleeve of his shirt, another sign of his irritation, and gestures for Torveld to take a seat on one of the overstuffed settees in the main room.

“What did this letter say?” He keeps his expression carefully blank as he asks. Auguste has teased Laurent for weeks about his correspondence with the massive alpha heir, calling their letters a courtship until Laurent’s face flames to his roots.

“He says we need to arrange a meeting to discuss the details of the trade agreement we’re trying to draft.”

“Perhaps Prince Damen truly wants to see you,” he says carefully, knowing his friend can get prickly about the subject.

“He’s an idiot.” Torveld could be mistaken—Auguste’s teasing addling his mind—but Laurent’s voice sounds fond. “It’s a waste of resources and guards to travel weeks just to discuss and sign a paper.”

Torveld maintains silence, looking at his friend with raised eyebrows until the blonde huffs. “Enough,” Laurent says with dismissive wave of his hand as he sits beside Torveld. “Tell me of your troubles.”

Troubles seem trivial compared to the tangle of obstacles that lay before him. Regardless, Torveld recounts the details of Erasmus’s confession, leaving out the specifics of Erasmus crying and Torveld holding him. Throughout his story, Laurent looks on with calculating eyes, cool expression hiding his own thoughts from Torveld. 

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” Laurent says when Torveld’s tale is finished.

“How can you still allow slavery in Vere? I thought it was abolished years ago.”

Laurent bristles and his voice is sharp with his response. “Allow it? My uncle found a loophole in our laws. I assure you, the law has been fixed, but it was too late for Erasmus and Kallias.”

“Why would he want to enslave two omegas?”

“Why does my uncle do anything?” Laurent shrugs, an elegant rise of shoulders, and keeps his expression carefully blank. The blasé response tells Torveld he is truly angry. 

“To prove that he can. To hurt you and Auguste. To piss you both off,” Torveld supplies in quick succession. Laurent wasn’t looking an answer, but he nods anyway. “Why doesn’t Auguste declare the contract invalid? He is king.”

Laurent sighs. “If it was that easy, do you not think we would have already done so?” Torveld hesitates. He didn’t mean to question the intelligence of his dearest friend. He opens his mouth to apologize but Laurent continues. “Kallias and Erasmus signed it.”

“Were they old enough to?”

“They had both already presented. The contract is based on a very old practice and considers age of presenting as the age of adulthood.”

“Will you tell me the details of the contract?”

Laurent does, and the hazy details of Erasmus’s secret finally unfold before Torveld. The contract is a seemingly simple deal between an alpha and an omega: a trade of security for comfort. The alpha must provide food, shelter, and safety for the omega. In return, the omega takes care of the alpha and their home. 

The specifics make it more complicated. Erasmus and Kallias are Govart’s slaves. They need his permission to mate with anyone, although they can court others without permission. He can ask anything of them and they must fulfill those duties. If they refuse, they are subject to punishment in prison or death. 

“My omega law still stands. He cannot force them to spend heats with him and he cannot force them to complete a mating mark,” Laurent says at the end of his explanation and the relief Torveld feels is immense.

He remembers the law Laurent championed many years ago, a law that would protect omegas from an alpha taking advantage in those ways. A mating can only be completed if both the alpha and the omega bite one another hard enough to leave a mark over the pulse. If only one leaves a bite, the mark will fade. In the past, countless alphas have marked their desired mates when the omega was delirious with heat and more likely to reciprocate without thought, forcing the omega into a bond that lasts a lifetime. Laurent’s law created a place for omegas to go to wait out their heat in safety instead: a small building near the palace the Veretians call the Unmated Ward. It’s protected by beta guards and staffed by beta physicians to ensure the omegas are safe and healthy.

“Are they the reasons for your law?”

“Yes,” Laurent says a little too quickly. Torveld’s eyes narrow at his friend but Laurent stares back, face a mask that Torveld cannot read, even with his intimate knowledge of the mechanics of Laurent’s mind.

Torveld rubs his hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as his mind whirls for the countless time that day. “Are you sure I can’t just kill him?”

“You can if you would like my uncle to be their master.” Torveld doesn’t need Laurent to list the ways he would be a worse master than Govart. He can imagine the twisted games the man would play with two sweet omegas.

“Is there no way to fight this?”

“The contract mentions an ancient custom to break it, but I cannot find reference to it in any books in the library.”

“Maybe it isn’t originally a Veretian custom,” he says offhandedly. Blue eyes widen with realization and Laurent’s expression sifts through a myriad of thoughts.

“I’m such a fool.” Laurent stands abruptly and would probably run off to the library or his own study if Torveld didn’t grab his wrist and pull him back onto the couch.

“I still have questions and your books can wait a few moments more.” Laurent’s lips press together in a line, a sign of his annoyance at Torveld, but he acquiesces with a nod. “I mean no offense, but why do you care so much about two omegas?”

“No omega should be subject to the whims of an alpha, especially a cruel brute like Govart.” His eyes flash with anger that Torveld can feel mirrored in his own gaze.

“Is that how they came to work in the library? You wanted them to have less time in Govart’s company?”

“Partially. I wanted to conduct my research without my uncle hearing of it.”

“And Govart allowed it?”

“I convinced him their pay would go to their master. Is this information truly necessary?” Laurent’s fingers tap against his leg, proof of his impatience.

“One more question.” Laurent raises his eyebrows, annoyance clear in his frown, and Torveld smiles. “How can I help?”

“Do you have any books on Patran customs with you?”

***  
Kallias and Erasmus both seem surprised to see Torveld when he returns to the library, considering he had left Erasmus not an hour prior. 

“Do you have any books on Patran traditions?” he asks in lieu of greeting the omegas. They both hesitate, studying him with matching quizzical looks until Kallias remembers himself. 

“Of course, sire,” he says as he hops down from his seat on the front table. He beckons Torveld over as he makes his way to a small bookcase that holds books with bindings in every color. Torveld can see the top bookshelf has the crests of other kingdoms etched into the wood, his own crest in the middle, probably to signify their strong alliance. Kallias hums to himself as his fingers trail over yellow bindings until finally plucking a large, dusty text.

“This one is the first in a detailed series of Patras written by an old scholar who used to be an ambassador back when Vere and Patras still fought each other.” Kallias hands him the book as he explains and it’s as heavy as it looks. “In fact,” Kallias’s blue eyes practically sparkle with mischief, “Erasmus is in the middle of reading the second one.”

Torveld considers the information. He’s glad Erasmus is looking for a way to break the contract too, but he’s unsure why Kallias would tease him about it. It dawns on him a moment later. Erasmus is reading to know more about Torveld’s home, not to break his contract. His heart thumps with affection for his omega and he grins at Kallias.

“Thank you.” He leans down and presses a friendly kiss to a tan cheek. Kallias’s face warms beneath his lips, pink dusting along his cheekbones and making his very faint freckles stand out. He chuckles when he pulls away and leaves Kallias at the bookshelf, eyes wide and unseeing.

“Did you break my friend?” Erasmus teases as he comes around the table to greet Torveld with a kiss. 

“Perhaps,” he says with a grin and wraps his arms around the slighter man to hold him just a second longer in their embrace. 

When they part, Torveld drops the book with a thunk onto a table meant for guests and Erasmus sits at his side as he begins to thumb through the pages. 

“Missing home?” the blonde asks, clasping one of Torveld’s arms and pressing into his side. 

“No, my home is missing a sweet, little omega.” Honey eyes fill with curiosity and Erasmus gets that small line on his forehead that means he’s confused. He looks so sweet Torveld cannot help but lay a soft kiss right on that line. “I’m looking for a way to break your contract. Your prince has already looked at Veretian customs. I thought I should start with my own.”

Erasmus’s grin is bright, and he squeezes Torveld’s arm tight with his joy. “Let me,” he says and flips past the first half of the book to a section about traditions. Torveld presses another kiss to his forehead and they read in silence.

If Torveld frequented the library before, he is almost a constant presence after discovering that Erasmus and Kallias are slaves. He still spends his mornings riding the fields of Vere with Laurent at his side, each discussing their own progress towards breaking the contract. After that, he returns to the library to pour over texts unless Auguste specifically calls for trade meetings. In days, he reads all the library has to offer about Patras and moves on to Akielos. 

It’s around midday a few days after Torveld learned of the omegas’ status. Torveld sits in the library at the table he has now claimed as his own given its proximity to the bookshelf with books from other lands. The sunlight pours through the tall windows behind the omegas’ table and pools in a warm spot Torveld angled his chair to sit in. It’s cozy and quiet and Torveld finds himself fighting to keep his eyes open. The only other visitor left a few moments ago at the toll of the lunch bell and Erasmus followed not long after, to deliver a book and grab lunch for the trio.

Kallias plops down beside Torveld and kicks his feet onto the corner of the table. “You know, Prince Laurent already read that one,” he says.

“Well, just in case he missed something.” Kallias raises one dark eyebrow. “You’re right,” Torveld sighs and shuts the book before pulling another off the top of the small stack next to him. He yawns as he opens the book to the first page and the words blur as he tries to focus past the comfort of the warm sun on his back.

“You really want to free Erasmus, huh?” Kallias asks after Torveld rereads the same line three times. The alpha stops and looks up at the omega, but Kallias is staring at the book instead of at him.

“I want to free both of you,” he declares. Sweet jasmine blooms in the air and Torveld inhales softly, drinking in the delectable scent in a subtle breath so he doesn’t scare the omega away. 

His attraction towards Kallias has grown as they’ve spent time together, a flower opening to the sunlight as opposed to the tumultuous storm that describes his attraction towards Erasmus. He hasn’t pursued Kallias, too worried about Erasmus’s thoughts on the situation. He has no doubt the blonde would be delighted to welcome Kallias into their courtship, if only because it would ensure his friend stays by his side. But Torveld wants more than that, if he’s honest. He’s seen the two of them touch: casual brushes of hands over skin or arms wrapped around shoulders or waists. Kallias in particular goes out of his way to touch Erasmus and each time, Torveld’s chest aches with longing.

Still, Torveld hesitates to broach the subject when their courtship is going so well.

“Why?” The word breaks through Torveld’s thoughts and for a bizarre moment he thinks Kallias is asking why Torveld is attracted to him. “I’m not the one you’re courting.”

“Perhaps I’d like to,” Torveld says before he thinks.

The jasmine takes on a sharp tang of fear or disgust, Torveld can’t tell with the storm of emotions that cross Kallias’s face. He wrinkles his nose at the pungent scent, wishing he could please the omega if only to enjoy being surrounded by wild jasmine again. 

Kallias glares at him. “No,” he claims in a clear voice that allows no room for argument. “Erasmus likes you. You’re his chance away from here.”

“If I could have you both?”

“You can’t. Not with Govart.”

Torveld places a hand on top of Kallias’s and the brunette snatches it away as if burned. “Kallias,” he implores but Kallias shakes his head, eyes hard. 

The sound of quick footsteps outside the library has Kallias looking towards the entry instead of responding. Erasmus practically skips through the doorway, body thrumming with energy and cheeks flushed as if he ran the whole way from the kitchen. Torveld watches as Kallias’s eyes soften at seeing the other omega. _Interesting_ , he thinks, before turning his attention to Erasmus.

“I’ve just heard,” Erasmus pants for a moment, smile broad as he tries to catch his breath. “Govart is being sent away for two days.”

“Do you know why?” Kallias asks, eyebrows drawn together.

Erasmus shrugs. “Guarding some noble. But that’s not what’s important. What’s important is—”

“We can spend the night together,” Torveld says, heat clear in his voice and his eyes. 

Erasmus flushes and swallows. “I’d like that,” he responds, blushing a pretty pink all the way to his roots.


	9. Chapter 9

Govart leaves early the next morning, but not without bidding his omegas goodbye in typical Govart fashion. The door to their bedroom knocks against the wall with the force of his push and both omegas snap awake and scramble a part. If Govart notices how they slept cuddled together, he doesn’t comment. Dread grips Erasmus in its icy claws as Govart stands at the end of the bed, staring down at the two omegas with an unreadable face. He circles to Kallias’s side, grips the brunette’s chin, and tilts his head back at an uncomfortable angle. Kallias whimpers but knows better than to protest or look away from Govart when he’s like this.

“Behave,” Govart growls. He shoves Kallias’s face to the side then jabs a finger in Erasmus’s chest. “You better not smell like that stuffy alpha when I get back.” He pokes harder and Erasmus knows the skin will bruise. “If he fucks you, I’ll find out and I’ll ship you off to the Regent.”

He grins, sharp and wicked, and Erasmus nods. Govart leaves then, practically slamming the door behind him. The room is dark, sun not set to rise for another hour, but Erasmus can just make out the shape of Kallias rubbing his chin. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, placing a gentle hand on Kallias’s arm. 

The other omega nods. “I just wish…”

“You can tell me Kallias.”

“I wish Torveld could free us both.”

The words confuse Erasmus. Of course, Torveld will free them both. He is a good man: a man with honor. “Kallias,” he squeezes Kallias’s arm gently, “I would never leave you with Govart and neither will Torveld.”

Kallias doesn’t respond and Erasmus wishes he had lit a candle so he could see his friend’s expression. 

“Let’s sleep a little longer,” Erasmus says, “Things will look better in the morning light.” They wiggle under the covers. Kallias’s arm wraps around his waist and Erasmus rests his cheek against the other man’s shoulder and tangles their legs together. 

Things do look better in the morning light. Whatever anguish gripped Kallias last night and filled him with doubts is gone and replaced by his usual happy grin. Yellow bruising frames his smile and Erasmus wishes he could sooth the injury away, especially before Torveld sees it. The alpha thinks he’s being subtle, but Erasmus knows his eyes scan both of their bodies for harm every morning.

The library opens and within moments Torveld walks through the door, a small sack in hand.

Erasmus’s heart thuds when he sees the alpha and he places the book he was inspecting down on the table. “You’re very early today,” he says with a grin. 

“Yes, I’m making arrangements for tonight. Will you come to my rooms at the supper bell?”

“I’d love to.” 

Torveld presses a kiss to his cheek and places the sack on the table. “Something for tonight,” he murmurs and his breath against Erasmus’s ear makes the blonde shudder. When Torveld pulls back, his eyes are dark with lust. 

Kallias joins them at the table then, arms filled with the latest books Prince Laurent requested. Torveld’s eyes narrow when he takes in the smattering of yellow bruises on his chin. He reaches out a hand but Kallias flinches away before he can touch and glares at the prince. _Odd_ , Erasmus thinks. Kallias is casual with any touch and has never rebuked Torveld before.

“What happened?” Torveld asks. If he is perturbed by Kallias’s reaction, his face doesn’t show it.

“Govart,” Kallias replies curtly and turns his attention to the library ledger. Torveld glances at Erasmus, eyes imploring.

“We had an early morning is all,” Erasmus adds. “We’re okay.” Torveld grinds his teeth but stays silent. 

He leaves shortly after, off to make plans for the night he won’t reveal to Erasmus no matter how much the omega tries to wheedle information out of him.

The day passes slowly and while Erasmus tries to keep busy, it seems as if the sun has been replaced by a snail with a giant, yellow shell. They finally close the library with only an hour to spare before supper and return to their room so Erasmus can ready himself.

He’s a mix of impatience and eagerness as he bathes in the servants’ bath and dries with a scratchy cloth. In their room, he thrums with energy and picks out two different tunics before putting both back and chewing his lip as he looks at others. Maybe he can borrow one from Kallias.

“Here,” Kallias says and holds out a light blue chiton. “Did you forget Torveld’s gift this morning?” In his nervousness, he did. He blushes at his mistake and puts on the tunic. It’s Patran in style, which means the skirt floats around his thighs and the top is loose but cinches at the hips where he ties a beige cord. It hangs off one shoulder and if he shifts the right way, he can reveal soft pectoral muscles or the tops of his thighs. The fabric is soft and whispers across his skin like a gentle caress as he moves. It shouldn’t feel good, but perhaps the anticipation is addling his brain because it does and makes him blush.

He moves to the tiny glass they have, large enough to see one’s face and nothing else, and primps his curls with his fingers. Kallias steps behind him and bats his hands away. “Here, let me,” he murmurs. Erasmus closes his eyes and lets the other omega work, trying to calm himself with deep breaths. He drinks in soothing jasmine and turns his mind to the feeling of familiar fingers in his hair and warmth at his back.

“Done,” Kallias says moments later. Erasmus looks to the glass and sees that Kallias has twisted his hair along one side of his head in a simple braid to keep it off his long neck and collarbone. The braid blends into the other side where the curls are loose and full.

“You look beautiful,” Kallias breathes and squeezes his shoulder gently.

“I’m nervous.”

“Torveld is already smitten with you. There is nothing to be nervous about.”

The supper bell tolls somewhere in the courtyard and Erasmus’s chest clenches. “Go to him,” Kallias says with a gentle smile. “You can tell me about it tomorrow.” He emphasizes the last word with a wink and Erasmus’s face flushes.

“You don’t think he’ll expect…” He bites his lip and looks down at their feet, too embarrassed to continue that thought.

Fingers tap the bottom of his chin and he meets Kallias’s wide set eyes. “Torveld is a man of honor. You said so yourself today. He will not force you to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Erasmus flushes a little and smiles. “Thanks for helping me, Kallias. You’re a true friend.”

Kallias smiles and huffs a little laugh. “And you’re truly late. Go.” He forcibly turns Erasmus around and marches him towards the door, hands tight on his shoulders. 

The blonde twists in his arms and presses a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thanks.”

“Go already,” Kallias laughs and swats at his backside. Erasmus giggles and finally departs.

He makes his way towards Torveld’s room and it feels like only a minute has passed before he turns the corner to see a familiar alcove lined with windows and a dark wooden door with Torveld’s family crest etched into the surface. He stands in front of the door, takes a deep breath to calm the bubbling of his stomach, and knocks.

The door opens and a bloom of fresh rain floods Erasmus’s nose, the alpha’s scent stronger than Erasmus has ever smelled before. Torveld stands in the doorway, beard neatly trimmed and wearing a white tunic that leaves his muscled arms and glimpses of his chest bare to Erasums’s viewing. Erasmus breathes in deeply and teeters a little on his feet at the thick wave of scent. A hand grips his shoulder and Torveld looks at him with concern.

“Are you alright?”

“Your room smells like you.” Concerns pass over Torveld’s eyes and face but stop when Erasmus lays a hand on his forearm. “It smells good. I was just overwhelmed for a moment.”

“I can move dinner out here.”

Erasmus shakes his head, which helps to focus his hazy brain. “I like your scent and I want to see your rooms.”

Torveld smiles and beckons him through the door. 

Torveld’s rooms are exactly how Erasmus imagined. There is a small sitting room in the front lined with full bookshelves and a plush rug that covers most of the stone floor. A small table in the center is surrounded by three overstuffed arm chairs and Erasmus is sure that the golden brothers have spent time lounging in here when trying to avoid their duties. 

He can see the corner of a bed through an archway in the back of the room and there is another door Erasmus guesses leads to a private bath. The sitting room is warm and well light with flickering candles and a roaring fireplace. As the favored dignitary from another country, his windows stretch from floor to ceiling and grant the best view of the city below and the woods beyond. In front of one of the windows, sits two chairs around a small table upon which are glasses of wine and a spread of food.

“Your rooms look like you too,” Erasmus says as a hand presses to the small of his back and guides him towards the table.

“I hope that is a good thing.”

Erasmus hums, not answering one way or the other, and Torveld chuckles. The prince pulls out a chair for Erasmus and helps him scoot it in before taking his own seat. Upon closer inspection, the table is checkered in small black squares beneath the plates of food.

“Shall we play chess after dinner, sire?” Erasmus teases with a little grin.

Torveld’s eyes glint with mischief. “It is my hope that you will be too distracted with other desires to play a game of chess."

Erasmus flushes with heat, embarrassment on his face and lust in his stomach, and huffs a little breath. He never knows how to respond to Torveld’s overt flirtations. The man is uninhibited in expressing his desires and it overwhelms Erasmus, who’s used to ignoring vulgar comments about his appearance. He doesn’t know what to do with pretty words and compliments.

His eyes search the table as he thinks on what to say. In front of him sits a plate full of food, a glass of white wine already poured, and a napkin. “Where is the fork?” he asks. 

“No need.” Erasmus looks up to find Torveld extending a small piece of bread with lump of butter towards him. Realization leaves him breathless for a moment and a second glance at their plates confirms his thoughts. Cunning prince Torveld chose finger foods so they would have to feed each other throughout dinner. 

He can feel the blush tint his cheeks as he accepts the food, trying to appear casual as he lets his lips linger against Torveld’s fingertips. The alpha’s eyes darken, and Erasmus feels that familiar tingle of pleasure at the base of his spine.

They trade off feeding each other bites of bread, cheese, roast chicken, and spiced nuts, washing each bite down with sweet wine, the same wine Erasmus served Torveld the first night they met. As they eat, they talk and slowly Erasmus’s nerves wash away to be replaced by the feeling of comfort of being near his alpha and enveloped in his scent.

“Can I ask you something?” Erasmus says about halfway through their meal. The alpha waves him on and he continues, “Kallias seemed stiff around you today. Did something happen while I was delivering books?”

Torveld sighs and his thumb rubs over the stem of his wine glass as he considers the question. “I must be honest with you, Erasmus, although I am worried it will upset you.”

The omega cocks his head, brows creased, and waits for his prince to explain.

“I told Kallias I wanted to court him as well.”

Surprise, understanding, and a tinge of betrayal hit Erasmus all at once. He presses his lips together and looks out the window at his side as he thinks before responding, unsure which emotion will win out first. The sun is barely a sliver on the horizon and the sky is awash in pinks and purples. His gaze traces the clouds. 

It’s quite common for alphas to pursue more than one omega at a time and some omegas do the same before choosing the person they want to mate for life. Still, he would have wanted Torveld to at least warn him before he set his sights elsewhere as he has no intention to do the same, too consumed with love for the prince. 

Many alphas create harems by mating with multiple omegas, an arrangement familiar to Erasmus given his status as Govart’s slave alongside Kallias. He has nothing against harems and understands that in a real one, an alpha can truly love and care for multiple omegas. It is rumored that in other countries omegas in harems can also mate one another, but in Vere omega courtships are taboo.

His thoughts move to his own situation. Would he mind sharing Torveld with his dearest friend if that would mean spending his life with both of them? Erasmus thinks about Kallias’s easy smiles and fierce loyalty, then Torveld’s kind eyes and deep affection. He thinks of them together: the laughs, the gentle smiles, casual touches, and intelligent banter while he watches on, happy to witness the people dearest to him getting along so well.

Erasmus breathes in and lets the breath out take all his concerns with it.

“Kallias thinks you’re trying to be unfaithful to me. That’s why he dismissed you today.”

“I would never!” Torveld grasps one of his hands in both of his. 

“Hush,” he says with a smile. He means to be comforting, but the alpha’s mouth snaps shut and his brown eyes are filled with regret and sorrow. He must think Erasmus will turn him away. “I would love if you had both of us. Kallias is my friend.”

Torveld’s eyes flash with a myriad of emotions: relief, confusion, and regret. “I should have told you first.”

“We’ve both kept secrets. Now, they’ve been revealed, and we can move on.”

“It’s not the same.” Torveld’s gaze is full of sorrow. “I should have gotten your permission. I didn’t mean to—” 

“Yes, you should have,” Erasmus says and finds he isn’t mad. He does wish Torveld had told him first, but he realizes his answer would have been the same. 

“But I’m not blind.” He turns his hand palm up and squeezes Torveld’s hand gently. “I’ve seen the way you both look at each other and I would be happy to be yours alongside him.”

“I do not deserve you,” Torveld breathes. 

“You do. And you deserve him too.”

They relax into silence. Erasmus offers a piece of hard cheese to Torveld and smiles when the alpha takes it and then presses a kiss to his fingertips. 

“Can I ask you something?” Erasmus nods. “Have you and Kallias ever…?”

Erasmus’s face warms at the memory. “We kissed once.” 

“Did you like it?”

He nods and casts his eyes down, sheepish as he watches his own thumb trace his wine glass stem. “It felt really good. Warm.” The blush on his cheek reddens. “And he smells so sweet. But…” He chews his bottom lip and refuses to look up at Torveld. “Omegas shouldn’t do that together.”

Veretians condemn omegas who don’t have an alpha to take care of them. Omegas who choose to mate with another omega are ostracized, often to the point that they hide their mating marks or leave cities for the privacy of the countryside. Even typical Veretian entertainment, where pets copulate for pretty jewelry and coin, is rife with the prejudice. On the rare occasion that two omegas perform together, one emulates an alpha, usually to the point of extreme aggression.

Shame sits heavy in Erasmus’s stomach, churning his food enough to make him feel queasy. Fingers brush the back of his hand and he glances at the alpha, worried he will find Torveld’s handsome face lined with disgust. Torveld just smiles and his eyes are soft with affection. 

“I know it is frowned upon in Vere,” Torveld says, “but in Patras it isn’t uncommon for omegas to love each other.”

“But it’s unnatural.”

Torveld frowns. “Not in Patras.” Erasmus looks to the window again, mind a siege of thoughts. He hears Torveld take in a breath like he’s going to say something, but he seems to reconsider and let it out in a huff.

Calloused fingers tap his wrist for his attention. “I’d like to move to the sitting room, unless you truly want to play a game of chess.” 

“No dessert?” he teases with a grin.

“Perhaps I want sweet kisses for dessert.”

Erasmus flushes and ducks his head. They’ve kissed so many times, and still Torveld makes him giddy with the anticipation of doing so again. 

They abandon their leftover food, but Torveld brings both wine glasses as they move to the center of the room. Torveld places the glasses on a little table at the side of one chair and takes his seat amongst comfortable looking cushions and pillows. When Erasmus turns to take another chair, Torveld grasps his wrist.

“I’d like for you to join me if you’re alright with that.”

Erasmus looks at the chair, confused for a moment about where he is supposed to sit. They could fit side by side, but it would be a tight squeeze. Torveld smiles and pats his own thigh, and Erasmus flushes.

He concedes with a shy bob of his head and Torveld helps steady him as he climbs into the older man’s lap. He sits facing Torveld with knees pressed to either side of the man’s hips and rests his weight just above Torveld’s knees. The skirt of his tunic hangs incorrectly and instead of tucking under his thighs, it billows out. The bare skin of his thighs and backside press against Torveld’s legs. He squeaks and tries to right his skirt, but Torveld stops him with gentle hands. 

“You aren’t wearing undergarments?” Torveld asks, voice full of awe. Erasmus flushes bright red and squeezes his eyes shut tight, mortified at his own overt actions. He reaches again to tuck the skirt under him, but Torveld grasps his hand and brings it up to his lips.

“My little minx,” he growls and lays a series of kisses along Erasmus’s hand and wrist.

Erasmus doesn’t think his face can get redder, but his embarrassment heats his neck and chest. “I’m sorry. Please let me fix it.”

“Fix it? This is perfect.”

“But what if I…?” he trails off and pinches his lip between his teeth, too embarrassed to voice his true concerns. But Torveld is intelligent and he picks up the thread of his thoughts easily.

“Get slick on me? Oh,” he breathes, and his lips stretch into a hungry smirk, “I hope you do.”

Humiliation consumes Erasmus. He hangs his head and tries to breathe past the lump in his throat. He has never felt so embarrassed in his life. Every time they kiss, slick gathers at his entrance and after he has to wipe it away so the fragrance does not attract unwanted attention from another alpha. He can’t control it and he doesn’t want to make a mess on Torveld with his own extreme reactions.

A large hand cups his cheek and he cracks one eye open, too scared to look fully at his alpha. Torveld’s smile is kind and his eyes swim with lust and fondness. “Do not be ashamed of how your body reacts to me. I love feeling you against me as we kiss, and I want to indulge in all your body has to offer tonight.”

He presses a kiss to Erasmus’s forehead. “I love you, Erasmus.”

Erasmus’s entire body warms at the confession, replacing the uncomfortable heat of shame with gentle waves of tenderness. “I love you too,” he says.

Torveld’s smile widens into a full grin that crinkles his eyes and makes him look younger. Erasmus expects the alpha to kiss him then, but he doesn’t. It seems that Torveld wants to take his time because he trails gentle fingers up his arms, making blonde hair and bumps rise behind his touch. His fingers dance over the omega’s exposed collarbones, then down his waist, and finally rest on his hips. Brown eyes follow the path of his own fingers as he starts to rewind their journey: over his hip bones, his waist, his ribs, and to his collarbones.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Torveld breathes. His fingertips brush oh so lightly over Erasmus’s covered nipples and the omega jerks at the sensation. 

“T-thank you.” Erasmus rests his hands on the larger man’s biceps so he can indulge in holding his favorite spot on the alpha.

Torveld hums, still watching his own hands as they trace Erasmus’s hips and then travel up to his waist again. Erasmus twists a little and the tunic moves with him, exposing soft pectoral muscles and one pink nipple to the alpha. Torveld’s gaze narrows onto that spot and Erasmus blushes at his own actions. 

Brown eyes flick up to meet his, then back down to his bare chest. A calloused thumb brushes over his nipple and Erasmus can feel his skin and his lap tighten in response. His lips part as he breathes, starting to pant as Torveld rubs his thumb over and over that spot.

Erasmus watches the alpha’s face cloud with lust. Torveld glances up at him, eyes hazy with barely contained desire. “Can I?” Erasmus isn’t sure what he’s asking permission for, but he swallows and nods all the same.

Torveld practically lunges forward. His lips envelop Erasmus’s already peaked nipple and his strong arms wrap around the omega’s waist to keep him from jerking away. Erasmus shudders and gasps as Torveld sucks at the sensitive skin. He drapes his arms over Torveld’s shoulders and tilts his head back, overwhelmed with the tingles that course up and down his spine. Slick starts to gather at his entrance and his hips wiggle at the sensation of wet pleasure between his cheeks.

“You smell so good,” Torveld growls and Erasmus’s face flames with his embarrassment. He knows the alpha can smell his body responding just as he can smell the alpha’s scent taking on the hint of musk at his own pleasure.

Lips leave his chest and trail up his neck and collarbone, searing over the skin with sharp nips and kisses. He bites right over Erasmus’s pulse and the omega bares his neck, begging with his body for a mark. 

“Please alpha,” he breathes, “don’t tease me.” Torveld groans and nuzzles his face into Erasmus’s neck and shoulder.

“I wish I wasn’t.”

Erasmus trails his fingers up the back of Torveld’s head to scratch at his nape and the base of his short hair. The alpha hums and tips his head up to capture Erasmus’s lips in a passionate kiss. Finally, something familiar to Erasmus: their mouths moving together while Torveld’s beard scratches at his chin and cheeks. He isn’t used to being in the other man’s lap or having that mouth all over his skin or being so wet at his hole. 

Torveld’s large hand presses against the small of his back and pushes him closer to the alpha’s chest. He can feel the rise and fall of Torveld’s chest against his own and the length of the alpha’s cock nudging at his thigh. They kiss and Torveld’s hand travels over the skirt of his tunic. It trails over his hip, down the top of his thigh, and back up the side to cup his backside. He doesn’t linger, doesn’t give Erasmus the time to react other than to gasp before his hand starts the path again. His other hand is a solid warmth at Erasmus’s hip, keeping the young man steady.

The next time, Torveld’s hand sneaks under the skirt of Erasmus’s tunic. Fingertips brush over the smooth skin of his thighs and Erasmus jerks in Torveld’s lap, breaking their kiss to pant against the alpha’s mouth. Torveld has touched his legs before. He’s massaged the omega’s calves, tickled at his knees, and teased at the skin where his chitons usually end. His hands have never gone so far up his skirt and Erasmus grips hard at Torveld’s shoulders, anticipation making his body tremble.

Torveld’s hand cups his bare backside and Erasmus assumes he will brush his fingers back down his thigh like he has done the times before. Torveld surprises him. He rests his palm against Erasmus’s bottom and dips the tips of his fingers between the split of his cheeks, where his slick pools with arousal. 

“S-stop! Stop! Stop!” Erasmus yelps and scrambles to grasp Torveld’s wrist behind his body. Shock fills Torveld’s face and he lifts both hands away from the omega’s body. The tips of his fingers on one hand are shiny with slick and Erasmus fights his mortification to meet the alpha’s confused gaze.

“I’m sorry, Erasmus. Did I go too fast? I can slow down.”

Erasmus shakes his head. “No, it’s just…” He wrings his hands in his lap. “I’ve never knotted out of heat and I…” He chews his lip, unable to complete the thought, sure that Torveld will send him back to Kallias now that there’s no chance of the alpha sticking his cock in somewhere warm.

A hand cups his cheek and Toreld smiles gently at him. “We won’t do anything you’re not ready for. There are other ways to find pleasure than joining our bodies.”

“But Govart will still smell you. He says he’ll send me to the Regent if he does.”

“I won’t peak or rub fluid on you in any way. You can even use my bath in the morning.”

Erasmus hesitates. He wants Torveld and all the pleasure that the man is offering him but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about the repercussions when Govart returns. Torveld wraps his arms around Erasmus’s waist and nuzzles his face against his neck again.

“Just fingers,” the alpha begs. His voice sound wrecked at the idea and a shiver courses down Erasmus’s spine at the words. “Please, Erasmus. Allow me to pleasure you.”

“But… how does that pleasure you?”

Torveld reels back, brows furrowed deep. “What?”

Erasmus ducks his head, cheeks hot for the hundredth time. “That won’t bring you pleasure so… why?”

“Oh, my sweet omega,” Torveld breathes and cards his fingers through loose curls. “Bringing you pleasure brings me more pleasure than you can imagine.” Doubt must show in Erasmus’s expression because Torveld continues. “It’s quite common for an omega to peak three or four times for every one of the alpha’s.”

Erasmus shakes his head and Torveld’s smile looks a little pained. He cups Erasmus’s cheek again and presses a kiss to his forehead. “We’ll discuss your experiences later but right now, I really,” he kisses Erasmus’s temple, “really,” a kiss to his cheek, “really,” a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, “want to touch you,” he whispers in the omega’s ear. 

“Alpha,” Erasmus breathes and his fingers clench over strong shoulders. 

“Is that a yes?” When Erasmus nods, Torveld grins, sharp and predatory. 

His hands make quick work of the cord around Erasmus’s waist, then help him slip the entire tunic over his head. Erasmus doesn’t move to cover himself as his body is revealed to his alpha. He knows he’s pretty. He’s been told so since he presented by lewd alphas and sometimes genuinely by Kallias. Torveld’s eyes take in the nude form of Erasmus perched on his knee and he smiles at the omega’s ever-present blush. 

“Beautiful,” he says before kissing Erasmus again.

Erasmus practically melts into the kiss, body already wiggling with eagerness. Both of Torveld’s hands cup his backside this time and the fingers of one slide in between his cheeks. Erasmus breaks from the kiss to gasp as the tips of those fingers brush through his slick without pressing into his body.

“You’re so wet,” Torveld breathes, voice gravel, and Erasmus flushes with embarrassment and hangs his head. He’s too slick, practically dripping onto Torveld’s thighs like he was afraid of and the alpha hasn’t even done anything yet. Torveld’s dry fingers grip his chin and tilt his face up gently. “Don’t be embarrassed. I love feeling your body’s response to me.” 

His fingers massage over Erasmus’s hole and the omega moans and presses his hips backwards. “Eager,” Torveld growls. Before Erasmus can feel shame or apologize for his actions, a thick finger presses inside. He moans and jerks against Torveld, rubbing his bare chest and cock against the prince’s soft chiton. His hole squeezes around the finger. It feels good but it isn’t enough when his body is this wet, this aroused.

“Another, another,” he pants into the alpha’s collarbone and a second finger pushes in alongside the first. Together the two fingers are thick enough to sate the need that burns low in Erasmus’s belly. Torveld’s fingers stretch his hole and massage his passage as they start to thrust in and out. Torveld keeps the thrusts slow as if he is determined to drive the omega mad with held off pleasure.

Erasmus trembles on Torveld’s lap and pants as those fingers move inside of him. He feels warm from the inside out. His arms and legs tingle with his pleasure and he knows that he won’t last long perched on his alpha’s lap in a position he has imagined for weeks as they’ve kissed and petted each other over their clothes. 

Torveld’s lips find his and they kiss, Erasmus submitting instantly to the alpha’s searching tongue, mind too preoccupied with the gentle fingers inside him. Torveld smiles against his lips then twists his fingers and drives them against a spot inside of Erasmus. The omega jerks and yelps as his body alights with hot pleasure that sears over the soft warmth from before. Torveld does it again; Erasmus digs his fingertips into the man’s arms as his back spasms. The tip of his cock is wet, smearing against Torveld’s tunic with his shaking body, and his hole is dripping obscenely, slick running down Torveld’s fingers and palm. If he was in his right mind, he would be embarrassed, but he can’t think past the immense pleasure.

“You’re so pretty like this,” Torveld growls and Erasmus can feel his blush heat his neck and the top of his chest. Cum dribbles out of his cock and a fresh wave of slick practically bursts from his body. Torveld’s eyes flash with realization of something and his grin turns smug. 

“So responsive.” Erasmus moans and rocks his hips back to meet Torveld’s thrusting fingers. “You’re so wet just from two fingers.” Those fingers drive deep into his body and this time, instead of pulling them back out, Torveld rubs them against his spot. Erasmus stiffens with pleasure and lets out a long moan. His hips stutter as he tries to press them even harder against those fingers. He’s so close, so close.

Torveld leans forward and growls into his ear. “Imagine how wet you’ll be on my cock.” Sharp teeth press against the skin over his pulse and fingers jab against that spot. Pleasure shocks over Erasmus. He peaks, cum spurting onto his and Torveld’s stomachs and slick dribbling out of his hole. He cries out and grasps Torveld’s shoulders so hard he’s sure to leave scratch marks. He shakes a part in Torveld’s arms and the alpha hums as he watches Erasmus’s slack face.

The pleasure clears, leaving Erasmus feeling hazy. He nuzzles into Torveld’s neck and presses his abdomen against the larger man’s, too blissful to care about the wet mess between them. He pants, and the haze dissipates in slow increments. Torveld’s dry hand runs up and down his spine, the wet one held away from his body, though his arm is still wrapped around Erasmus’s hips. It’s comfortable and safe in Torveld’s arms and Erasmus struggles not to doze off entirely, though he seems hyperaware of the hard length beneath him.

Once Erasmus has caught his breath, he leans back to face Torveld properly. The alpha smiles at him and his cock nudges gently against Erasmus’s sac, still hard beneath his tunic. Torveld doesn’t move to relieve himself or make Erasmus do so. He seems content to sit with the sated omega in his lap, even if the smell of alpha arousal is heavy in the air.

Erasmus opens his mouth to speak, not really sure what he’ll say, when Torveld unwraps his arm from Erasmus’s hips and brings his wet hand towards his mouth. Erasmus’s eyes widen and he grips the alpha’s wrist.

“What are you doing?” he asks, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. 

Torveld looks puzzled. “Cleaning up.” He goes to lick his own fingers but Erasmus jerks his hand away from his mouth.

“You can’t do that!” 

“Have you never been licked?” Erasmus ducks his head. If he thought he was embarrassed before, he’s mortified now. He wrings his hands in his lap, refusing to watch his alpha do _that_ with his slick.

“I’m not sure what Govart has said to you, but I promise you, Erasmus, he is wrong.”

“He said it’s dirty and that a real alpha wouldn’t debase themselves like that.” The one time he suggested it to Govart, the alpha had snarled, flipped him onto his stomach, and knotted him, telling him that was all he was good for.

Clean fingers tap beneath his chin and he looks up at Torveld through the curtain of his hair. “He’s wrong,” he says and licks a long stripe up one of his wet fingers. He moans and his eyes flutter as if he’s consumed something delicious. Erasmus swallows and chews his lip, shame thick in his chest and throat. 

Torveld smiles at him, kind. “I won’t push you, but tasting this,” he indicates his still messy fingers, “from the source is my favorite thing to do with a lover.”

“Really?” Erasmus breathes and Torveld’s grin widens as he nods. The alpha sticks two fingers in his mouth and sucks the slick from them with a hum.

“I think it’ll be a treat for both of us,” he says and pats Erasmus’s bottom with his dry hand. 

He’s so genuine Erasmus finds himself believing Torveld even before he licks away the rest of the slick like he’s savoring some fancy dessert.

“Okay,” Erasmus says, breath coming a little faster as he watches the alpha lick over his own fingers. 

“Okay?”

“I want you to.” 

Torveld’s eyes darken with lust and Erasmus feels a fresh wave of slick at his hole. “Oh, little omega,” the alpha growls, “you have no idea what you’re in for.”


	10. Chapter 10

They don’t make it out of the sitting room the first time, Torveld too impatient to wait until they walk into the bedroom. He has Erasmus over the back of the chair and trembling within seconds. The omega kneels with one leg on the cushion and the other propped onto the arm of the chair, spreading his legs for Torveld’s eyes and mouth. He cries and moans as Torveld suckles that pink hole. He comes apart the second time that night, body shaking around Torveld’s tongue and fingers scratching up the back of the chair.

Erasmus’s legs wobble as Torveld guides him into the bedroom, eager to stick his face between those pale thighs and feel the omega come on his tongue again. Erasmus tastes of the oranges and honey of his scent, but sweeter than Torveld even imagined. His taste coupled with the memory of his noises has Torveld mad with desire.

Erasmus lays on his back on the bed, legs and arms loose with pleasure and body open to Torveld’s gaze. His cheeks are pink with exertion, his hair at the temples is a dark honey color with sweat, and his pale chest rises and falls as he tries to catch his breath still. He looks ethereal and the alpha is overcome for a moment, wanting nothing more than to keep Erasmus in his bed like this always. Torveld discards his wet tunic to the floor and crawls onto the bed to kneel over the smaller man. He can see the spark of lust in Erasmus’s eyes as he looms over his slighter body and his alpha side preens. His cock is thick with his desire and probably red with his own held off pleasure. His knot swelled a while ago, sometime between Erasmus wiggling against him the first time and crying out above him the second. The omega’s gaze falls to his cock and he can see the man swallow. 

“I should,” Erasmus says and reaches down towards Torveld’s lap. The alpha grasps his hand and presses it down into the mattress by his head as he captures the omega’s lips in a heated kiss. Erasmus whimpers and the sweet scent of slick fills his nose. He cannot believe how lucky he is to have such a responsive omega in his bed.

“You don’t have to,” Torveld says when they part. 

“I want to.”

Torveld smiles and presses a kiss to the corner of Erasmus’s mouth. He trails a series of kisses over the blonde’s cheek and jaw before he reaches Erasmus’s ear. “I want to lick you again,” he murmurs and his own cock twitches as he imagines burying his face in between those round cheeks again. “Please, Erasmus. Then you can pleasure me anyway you want to.”

“Do you really like it so much?” Erasmus’s voice is thick with doubt and Torveld just barely manages to stop himself from snarling. It is not Erasmus’s fault he has not been treated properly in bed and it’s not that he is inexperienced either. He isn’t an insecure, blushing virgin, although he does blush a lot to Torveld’s immense satisfaction. He has been fed lies by an alpha who cares only about burying his knot in something warm and not pleasuring his partner.

“I told you it’s my favorite.” He pulls back just to watch the pink tinge of a blush spread across Erasmus’s cheeks. The omega bites his bottom lip as he thinks before he nods his agreement.

Torveld smiles and flips the lithe man onto his stomach with ease. A shiver runs down Erasmus’s spine and Torveld remembers how the omega likes to place his hands over Torveld’s muscles as they kiss. His alpha preens and he silently vows to find other ways to show off his strength during future lovemaking.

He grips Erasmus’s hips and pulls the young man to his knees so his chest is still pressed to the bed. His backside is round and full and Torveld could write sonnets about the feel of that plush skin in his hands. When Torveld settles behind him, Erasmus arches his back and presents his hole, slightly swollen and glistening with slick and spit already. Torveld growls and has to close his eyes to block the image before he slides his cock into that winking hole. Erasmus said he isn’t ready and Torveld won’t be like other alphas. 

“Please alpha,” Erasmus whimpers into the sheets and Torveld almost comes undone at that sweet voice begging for his mouth. His gaze traces over the swell of Erasmus’s backside, the pale lines of his back, and the soft curve of his shoulder to see his already pink face and glossy eyes.

“My pleasure,” he growls and ducks his head. He grips those sumptuous globes in his hands and spreads them to press his mouth to that sweet hole. Erasmus jerks but then tries to freeze the movement of his hips so Torveld can pleasure him. Torveld wastes no time thrusting his tongue into that warm passage and licking as deep as he can. 

Above him, Erasmus cries out and grasps the sheets tight in his hands. Torveld regrets that he can’t watch him, but the feeling of him shuddering more than makes up for the loss. He tightens his hold on those hips and pulls the omega back up from where his knees have slipped beneath him. The movement pushes his hole harder against Torveld’s mouth and Erasmus wails. 

Torveld knows the omega won’t last long, noises already high in pitch, so he doubles his efforts, licking over and over that hole before thrusting in deep and the repeating the process. Slick gushes out of Erasmus and he slurps at the liquid, even as it runs down his chin. Oranges and honey overwhelm his taste and smell until that is all he is aware of coupled with the pretty noises of his omega. Erasmus’s thighs tremble and his hips rock against Torveld’s mouth as he chases pleasure.

Torveld’s cock is so hard it hurts and his jaw aches but he ignores both sensations in favor of the feeling of his omega reduced to nothing but cries. He thrusts a finger in beside his tongue, jabbing that spot without warning, and that’s all it takes. Erasmus cries out and comes. Torveld keeps thrusting his tongue and his finger, determined to make the omega see stars even as his hips stutter and jerk beneath Torveld’s hands. 

“S-s-stop,” Erasmus whimpers into the sheets and Torveld finally relents, pulling away from the omega to rest his cheek against his plump bottom as Erasmus relaxes fully onto the bed. Torveld pants almost as hard as Erasmus as they both try to regain their breath. 

Erasmus shakes beneath him and Torveld looks up, worried the younger man is crying. He’s experienced it before, bed partners of all types in tears when they’re overwhelmed afterwards, even an alpha he tumbled with once. But Erasmus’s isn’t crying, he’s giggling uncontrollably into his own hand as if trying to block the noise. 

“What is it?” he asks as he pushes himself up onto hands and knees. His chest warms with affection as Erasmus continues to giggle, honey eyes bright with his untold joy. 

“I didn’t believe you at first, but now I guess I have to.” Erasmus grins up at him and twists to lay on his back. Torveld huffs a laugh.

“Would you believe me if I said I already desire to lick you again?”

Erasmus blushes and cups his jaw with gentle hands. “I’m sure you do, but you must be sore.” Fingertips press against the hinge of his jaw and Torveld groans softly. “Allow me to pleasure you now.”

Torveld’s shaft gives a hearty twitch against Erasmus’s thigh and the omega smiles at him, sheepish but pleased. 

They move to lay side by side facing one another, heads resting on the same pillow. Erasmus kisses him, gentle and languid, and Torveld lets him guide the kiss this time instead of taking over the pace. Soft hands run up his arms, over his collarbones, and down his chest. Erasmus pulls back to watch the path of his own hands through the smattering of hair that covers Torveld’s chest and trails down his stomach to his cock. His fingers play over the planes of Torveld’s abs and the brunette clenches the muscles just to hear Erasmus’s pleased gasp. 

His fingers brush over Torveld’s skin, inching closer and closer to his erection, but not quite reaching that far yet. 

“Tease,” Torveld growls against Erasmus’s lips before kissing him to take his mind off those wandering hands. Erasmus huffs a laugh and smiles.

“Sorry, alpha,” he teases and finally wraps his fingers around Torveld’s knot. Torveld groans and his eyes roll back at the tight pressure around his knot, right where an omega’s hole would clamp down. Erasmus hums at his reaction and twists his hand up Torveld’s length to swirl his thumb over the head of his cock. Torvled moans and pushes his hips forward through the circle of that hand. 

“Wait,” Erasmus pulls his hand away and Torveld groans at the loss of pressure. “I have an idea.”

Torveld cracks his eyes open and watches silently as Erasmus turns on the bed and scoots backwards until he’s pressed against the alpha from shoulder to hip. His plump backside is cradled in the curve of Torveld’s hips and it takes every ounce of his control not to thrust between those cheeks.

“I’ll spill on you,” Torveld says, unable to remember why that’s bad, but aware Erasmus was scared of it earlier.

“Maybe I want you to.”

“You tempt me,” he growls and Erasmus flushes.

“I’m sorry. If this is too much, we can do something else.” Erasmus goes to move away, but Torveld pulls him back by the hip and pushes his cock up between those slick-soaked cheeks, rubbing the length of his shaft against where he truly wants to bury it. They both moan and Torveld can’t help but thrust again.

“Is this what you planned?”

Erasmus shakes his head and grasps Torveld’s hip to stop his movement. “Like this.” He reaches back to guide Torveld’s cock down between his legs, then presses his thighs together. Torveld moans deep in his throat. The skin of Erasmus’s thighs is soft and warm around his cock. The area is wet with leftover slick and cum and the pressure is tighter than thrusting between his cheeks. If Torveld closes his eyes, he can almost imagine being buried in that tight hole if only there was enough pressure on his knot.

Erasmus leans up on his elbow and reaches between the press of their bodies to squeeze the base of Torveld’s shaft. He keeps his hand there as the alpha groans and thrusts into the press of his thighs. _Clever omega_ , Torveld thinks as he moves against the smaller man. 

“You feel so good,” he growls and pushes up onto one elbow to kiss at Erasmus’s neck and shoulder. He sets a relentless pace, too close to the edge already after making his pretty omega come three times. When he takes Erasmus for real, he’ll build up his thrusts just to watch the blonde eyelashes flutter against high cheekbones. 

Their skin slaps together and the noise joins the cacophony of sensations that overwhelm Torveld: the scent of omega slick, the taste of honey in his mouth, the slap of their skin together, the pressure around his cock and knot. Torveld groans with each thrust. His skin is hot with pleasure and he can feel his peak building inside of him. 

Erasmus looks over his shoulder, eyes hooded with his own arousal, and squeezes Torveld’s knot. “Please, alpha,” he breathes and Torveld is lost to his pleasure. He presses his face between sharp shoulder blades and groans with his release, hips thrusting over and over. He comes hard between Erasmus’s thighs, painting the omega’s skin in thick ropes of cum. 

When the pleasure has run its course, Torveld collapses back against the bed. His arms and legs feel as though they’ve been stuffed with cotton, the same feeling he gets after training relentlessly for hours. His pants hard and only has enough energy to wrap one arm around Erasmus as the omega cuddles into his side.

“We’ll have to bathe now,” Erasmus says, waving his hand towards his lower half. Torveld glances down and the alpha in him wants to purr at the image. Erasmus’s thighs are a mess of cum, slick, and spit and a deep sniff confirms that the omega smells like a mix of them both. He has an insane thought that Erasmus should always look and smell like this before he remembers that Erasmus isn’t his mate. _Yet_ , he promises himself and presses a kiss into soft curls that smell like honey and rain.

They bathe together, hands roaming over sore muscles but both too tired to do anything more than indulge in gentle caresses over wet skin. Afterwards, they stumble into bed and Torveld envelops the omega in his arms to sleep pressed together through the night.


	11. Chapter 11

Erasmus wakes with the cool light of morning barely peeking through the large windows of the prince’s rooms. It’s earlier than he needs to be awake to attend the library, so he burrows further into the cocoon of warmth around him, pressing the length of his back and curve of his hips into the man behind him. Torveld sleeps soundly through his movement, gentle snores tickling his hair and neck, arm wrapped loosely around his waist. The air around him smells like a blend of their scents and if he closes his eyes, he can pretend there is a mark on his neck and his mate as his back.

He indulges in the comfort and quiet until the entire room is splashed in cool blues and he must leave or be late to the library. 

He twists in Torveld’s arms and lays kisses over the prince’s jaw and cheeks. The alpha grumbles and tightens his arm around Erasmus’s waist until there is no space between their bodies.

“I have to go, Torveld,” he whispers, reluctant to break the peace of the room.

Torveld shakes his head, eyes still closed, and tries to pull Erasmus in even closer to no avail. Erasmus giggles at the sleepy alpha, cups his face, and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. When he tries to scoot out of Torveld’s embrace, the alpha lurches up and pins him to the mattress, eyes suddenly open and wide awake.

“Were you pretending?” Erasmus asks with a heatless glare. He struggles and pushes against Torveld, but he’s effectively pinned to the mattress by hands on his wrists and Torveld’s body weight on his thighs.

“How could I sleep when you rubbed that glorious backside against me?” He smirks and Erasmus flushes in embarrassment. He didn’t mean it to be sexual, he just wanted to feel his alpha against him. Torveld leans down and nuzzles his face against Erasmus’s neck. His beard scratches along Erasmus’s sensitive skin and the omega wiggles and tries to push his wrists up again. 

“Torveeeeld,” he whines when he can’t budge his arms.

“I was thinking one more time, are you amiable to that?”

Erasmus glances over his shoulder at the amount of light in the room and shakes his head. “Sorry, my prince. I’m already late.” He arches up to press a kiss to Torveld’s lips before falling back to the bed again. 

“Kallias would cover for you.”

“Yes, and I will never hear the end of it.” Torveld frowns and Erasmus smiles at his pouty alpha. “I’m sure we can sneak away like we have before.”

Brown eyes turn contemplative and the pout turns into a true frown. “I wish we didn’t have to sneak.”

Shame fills Erasmus and he turns his face from the alpha. Torveld—kind, honorable Torveld—deserves better. He deserves an omega who is free to mate with him and love him without having to find stolen time in secret places together.

A hand cups Erasmus’s cheek and turns his face back. “I’m sorry,” Torveld says. His gaze if full of concern and Erasmus’s heart clenches. They should be indulging in their time together, and yet he has caused his alpha to worry. “It is not your fault. I will find a way to free you and Kallias.”

Erasmus smiles, soft and half-hearted, and pushes himself to sit up so he can kiss Torveld properly. “Summer is half over and you will have to leave soon. Even if you can’t free us, I am happy for the time I have spent with you.”

“I will free you,” Torveld vows again.

“I know.”

They prepare for the day together in silence, mood somber as each is left to his thoughts. They bathe again, careful not to wash each other in case the scent lingers. Torveld ties Erasmus’s chiton at the shoulder as the blonde rakes fingers through his long hair in lieu of a comb. He presses a soft kiss to the curve of Erasmus’s shoulder after he’s done, and the omega huffs a little breath. He wishes they could spend the morning indulging in one another in the comfort of Torveld’s large bed, but duty calls and Govart is set to return later that day. 

They leave the room together, Torveld’s hand a steady presence on Erasmus’s lower back as they walk through the hallways.

Torveld leaves Erasmus at the entrance to the library with a gentle kiss goodbye.

The doors to the library are already thrown open and the light inside tells Erasmus he isn’t as late as he imagined he would be. Kallias stands behind the table, already working on a small stack of returns from the overnight crate. He looks up when Erasmus enters and smiles wide.

“I didn’t think I’d see you until lunch.”

“And miss spending my morning with you?” Erasmus teases. He comes to stand beside Kallias and starts looking over the stack of delivery papers for the day.

Kallias sniffs at the air around him. “You smell like him.” Erasmus’s eyes go wide and something like fear must pass over his face because Kallias frowns. “It’s not that bad. It just smells like you spent time with him.”

“Govart won’t care why, he’ll just care that I do.”

“Here.” Kallias spreads his arms and envelopes Erasmus in a hug. They stand pressed together for moments, Kallias rubbing his hands over Erasmus’s back, shoulders, and arms to try and muffle the alpha’s scent. Erasmus feels warm and blushes when he remembers Torveld’s question from the night before about if he and Kallias had ever been together. He tucks his face into the other omega’s neck and tries to fight down his embarrassment before his friend can see.

When they part, Kallias sniffs at Erasmus again. “Better. After a day in the library, his scent will be covered. Don’t worry.”

“Will you check this evening?”

“Of course,” Kallias huffs a little laugh and bumps Erasmus with his hip. “What would you do without me, huh?” Erasmus laughs. 

They work in quiet for a few moments. The library is empty, as usual this early in the morning, and together they complete all the returns and pull the books for delivery from the shelves. Once they are back at the table, sorting books to be delivered and filling out the log, Kallias breaks the silence.

“Are you going to tell me about your night with him or is it some sort of secret?”

Erasmus smiles, takes another look around the library to make sure they still have privacy, and launches into a retelling of the night before. He tells Kallias about the dinner without forks, kissing Torveld on the chair, and how that evolved into other activities.

“Did he knot you?” Kallias asks.

Erasmus shakes his head. “He used his fingers and,” he blushes a bright red and stares at the table instead of looking at his friend, “his mouth.” 

Kallias blanches. “Really?”

“He’s very giving.” He moves closer to Kallias and whispers in his ear as if sharing a secret. “I came three times.”

“Ah gross!” Kallias exclaims and practically jumps away from the other omega. “Too many details, Eras.”

Erasmus laughs, blush still burning on his cheeks but embarrassment worth it to see Kallias’s reaction. “You know,” he teases, “you could have a night like that too.”

Kallias snorts. “Yeah, right. The last time an alpha courted me, I didn’t even peak. He just wanted use of my mouth.”

Erasmus winces, remembering the handsome but stern-looking alpha who courted Kallias for a few weeks about a year ago.

“I meant with Torveld. He told me he asked to court you yesterday.”

Kallias stiffens. “He did, did he?” His voice is even, carefully so, and makes Erasmus glance at him out of the corner of his eye. Kallias’s expression is blank as he looks over a book and puts it into the growing stack meant for Prince Laurent.

“I’m okay with it.”

“I’m not interested.”

Erasmus’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead in surprise and turns his head to look at Kallias but Kallias just ignores him, more determined than ever to not look up from the book in his hands. “Do you not want Torveld? I’ve seen how you look at him.”

“How are you okay with it?”

“I know he loves me.”

“He didn’t even tell you first. That’s unfaithful,” Kallias spits and his lip curls in disgust.

“Kallias, he told me himself. It’s not like you had to tell me.” Erasmus finishes off the title he was writing in the ledger with a swirl that drips ink onto the corner of the page. He places the quill to the side and turns to fully face the other man. “Besides, he knew I’d love to be his alongside you.”

“Govart will never let us go.”

“Torveld is going to free us both.”

“No, he’s not!” Kallias slams a book onto the table and whirls on Erasmus, anger twisting his mouth into a frown. “Wake up Erasmus.” He jabs a finger into Erasmus’s chest. “He’s warming his bed with you until the end of the summer. That’s it.”

“If that was all, he wouldn’t be in here every day to read—”

“What? Books on his own culture that he already knows?” The brunette laughs, cold and sharp. “Laurent has spent _years_ researching for us. Torveld isn’t going to find it in months. He’s biding his time so you think he’s trying when really, he just wants your ass.”

The words sting but Erasmus shoves the hurt away before it can fully form in his chest. “He loves me. And he likes you and he’ll free us and take us both to Patras where we won’t be slaves.”

“Yeah, if we sleep with him,” Kallias condemns. “Doesn’t sound like a free ride to Patras to me.”

Erasmus glares. Torveld is too honorable for what Kallias is accusing him of. “He’s going to free you regardless. We just thought you’d like to be included. That maybe you’d want to be with us.”

“You’re naïve.”

“And you’re scared,” Erasmus snaps back. “I don’t know why, but I see it in your face sometimes.”

“Because I don’t want to lose you!” Kallias yells. His eyes widen when he realizes what he’s said, and he drops his head and clenches his fists at his side. Clarity at last, only Erasmus’s chest aches with the confession instead of feeling relieved.

“Oh Kallias,” Erasmus breathes and reaches out. 

“Don’t touch me,” Kallias pleads, eyes still trained on the floor. Erasmus drops his hand and waits for his friend to speak. “He wants to free you and take you back to his home and you’re just okay with it. You never talked to me about it, about me moving too and I thought you would just…”

“Kallias, you’re my dearest friend.” He places his hand on Kallias’s shoulder and this time the other omega lets him, although he tenses under the touch. “I want you to go with us, to be part of Torveld’s harem with me. Then we’ll be together for the rest of our lives.”

Kallias looks up. His blue eyes are red and watery with tears he refuses to let fall. “And if I don’t want Torveld?”

“Then you can come with us as our friend.” Erasmus smiles softly and squeezes his shoulder.

“I… I’ll think about it.”

They each turn back to their work: Kallias sorting books while Erasmus writes down the borrower and titles in each stack he creates. It’s quiet, although not as comfortable as usual for their silences. As Erasmus works on the last stack, Kallias places a hand on his free arm.

“I’m sorry. I know Torveld is a good man. I didn’t mean—”

“Hush,” Erasmus says with a smile. “You were worried.” Relief washes over Kallias’s face and he wraps his arms tight around Erasmus, trapping his arms to his sides and making him drop the quill on the page. Ink splatters across the ledger, distorting the information with thick smudges. 

“Kallias!” Erasmus cries as he wiggles out of Kallias’s embrace. “I’m going to have to rewrite the whole page!” Kallias cackles and grabs the nearest stack of books.

“I’m off to deliver. Good luck, Eras!”

“I’m rescinding your invitation to Patras!” he calls after Kallias as the brunette races out the door, stacks of books in each arm.

“No, you’re not!” Kallias yells over his shoulder before he turns the corner and is gone from the library.


	12. Chapter 12

Torveld stays away from the library the day after his and Erasmus’s night together. He doesn’t trust himself to keep from accosting the omega and it would be unwise to make Erasmus smell like him when Govart could return at any moment. He rides with Laurent for longer than normal and spends his day in his room, trying to read ancient books, but frequently distracted by the lingering smell of oranges and the images that smell invokes.

Govart returns sometime in the afternoon and with him, Torveld returns to his normal routine of riding with Laurent in the morning and spending the afternoon with Erasmus and Kallias. He loathes to feel he is sneaking around with Erasmus, but there is a thrill to convincing the omega to duck into a closet with him so they can find pleasure together in stolen moments of privacy. 

Kallias is a little cold to him at first, but he warms in days until they are back to playing cards and joking together, air still a little charged with things unsaid but mostly back to the casual friendliness they shared before. Erasmus tells him of their argument and of Kallias’s fear. While Torveld aches to reassure the omega of his intentions, any time he tries to talk to Kallias, the younger man finds a way to change the subject or to leave the room. After the first two times, Torveld decides to wait until Kallias is ready to come to him.

A week after Govart’s return, Torveld enters the library, fresh from his morning ride to find Kallias lounging with his feet propped on the front table and Erasmus sitting with the shy omega girl he and Kallias have been tutoring for weeks. Erasmus looks up when he enters and his face lights up, which in turn makes Torveld smile as he crosses the room to greet his lover.

“I-I can go,” the girl says, eyes downcast.

“Nonsense,” Torveld replies as gently as possible. She’s a rather timid creature and he doesn’t want to scare her. He bends down to press a quick kiss to the top of Erasmus’s head before leaving the two to their studies. Soft curls tickle his nose as he does and he sniffs discreetly. A cloud of honied fragrance envelopes him and his eyes widen. The scent of oranges and honey is sweeter than normal, sweeter even than when he’s had Erasmus shuddering on his fingers. It can only mean… 

Erasmus glances up at him, mouths “later,” and looks pointedly towards Kallias, silently instructing him to go wait with the other omega. Torveld’s legs are stiff and it takes every ounce of control he has to walk away from his omega, smelling like his heat will start any moment. His heart pounds against his ribcage and blood rushes through his ears. He’s not sure what he looks like, but Kallias pats his arm with empathy when he lowers himself into the chair beside the brunette, arms and legs spasming as he forces them not to take him back to his lover. 

“Cards?” Kallias says and Torveld is grateful for the distraction. He loses miserably hand after hand as his eyes keep straying to the enticing blonde a few yards away. The longer he sits with Kallias, breathing in jasmine to override orange peel, the easier it gets to concentrate on something other than his instincts. 

Erasmus makes him wait a torturous hour before he finally bids the girl goodbye and joins Torveld and Kallias at the front table. Torveld grips the wood to keep from pulling Erasmus into his lap as that scent wafts towards him again. All he can think is _breed, breed, breed_ like the alpha knot-heads he hates.

“I was going to get us some lunch,” Eramus says and Torveld growls from deep in his throat. His omega will do no such thing, smelling like that around alphas he’ll surely pass in the hallway. He stands abruptly, snatches Erasmus’s hand, and drags him from the library without a word to Kallias. Erasmus giggles as Torveld stalks down the hallway and it takes a moment for the alpha to realize Erasmus was teasing to begin with. He had no intention of going to the kitchens at all. He’s become the alpha stereotype he fights so hard not to be, but one look at Erasmus’s flushed cheeks and smiling lips and he doesn’t care. If his omega doesn’t mind his actions, he won’t bother overthinking them.

He leads Erasmus to the library storage room a few yards away from the library’s entrance. They’ve spent a few moments in this room over the last week given its proximity to the library itself and its absolute privacy. Erasmus and Kallias are the only ones with keys other than the head servant, who leaves them to their work. The room is dusty and houses extra copies of books already on display in the library and a few bookshelves that need repair.

Torveld pushes Erasmus inside the room and barely remembers to lock the door behind them before he descends on the omega. 

“Torveld _ah_ —” Torveld flips Erasmus around and presses the line of his body against that slim back, effectively pushing him against a stone wall. He shoves his face into the fluffy curls before him and inhales deep, filling his senses with sweet heat.

“When?” he croaks.

Erasmus swallows. “Tomorrow probably or very late tonight.”

Torveld growls. He brushes the hair from Erasmus’s neck and nuzzles his nose right into the pale nape where the scent is the purest. His mind is yelling at him to take the omega right now, but he forces himself to slow and to think past his instincts. His lover isn’t ready for that yet—he’s been clear about that every time they’ve snuck away to couple—and Torveld won’t take him now when their minds are mottled with need. 

Erasmus trembles against him and looks over his shoulder, eyes already hooded with pleasure. “No kiss hello?” he pouts and Torveld can see the mischief in his gaze. He’s been spending too much time with Kallias. 

“Anything for you, my love,” he says. Erasmus smiles and goes to turn in the circle of his arms, but Torveld tightens his grip on his shoulders and forces the younger man to stay against the wall. Before Erasmus can question him, he drops to his knees behind the omega.

“Alpha,” Erasmus gasps and Torveld can see the fine shiver that runs up his spine in anticipation. He chuckles.

Torveld takes his time arranging the omega to his liking and Erasmus lets him without a word. Torveld pulls his hips away from the wall, bending his body at a slight angle to jut his backside out more. He presses a kiss to Erasmus’s ankle as he lifts that leg to prop it up on an empty crate they’ve used before for the same purpose. Finally, he flips the omega’s skirt up, too impatient to take the tunic from his body, and pulls his undergarments down his thighs as far as his spread legs will allow. 

“Tor,” Erasmus whines. He goes to moves his leg, probably to remove the undergarments, but Torveld grasps his hips and steadies him. He wants his omega at the mercy of his mouth and hands and the twisted cloth helps to trap him. If they were in his rooms, he would ask to tie the omega down if he thought Erasmus would be amiable to it.

“Alright?” he asks. Even with his blood rushing through his ears again, he doesn’t want Erasmus to feel like he has no choice.

“It’s all I’ve thought of since you walked into the library.” Torveld hums low in his throat, pleased to know he was not the only one distracted during Erasmus’s tutoring session. 

He starts slowly, fighting all instinct to take. He places his hands on Erasmus’s bottom, running his fingers over soft skin. Erasmus’s hips twitch and Torveld smiles to himself. He presses his fingers into that supple flesh and parts round cheeks to reveal his pink hole, already shiny with slick. A glance down confirms his underwear is wet as well and Torveld warms with lust at the knowledge that just thinking about Torveld has made Erasmus dribble into his clothes.

“Beautiful,” he breathes and presses a thumb against that wet hole.

“Please alpha, your mouth, please.” If Torveld didn’t know better, he would think that Erasmus was already in the throes of heat, hurting with his need for an alpha. 

He won’t torture his lover any longer. He presses a chaste kiss to that pink hole, then laps his tongue over the furled skin to gather all the slick that has dripped out already. Orange peel and honey burst along his tongue and he groans at the taste. Erasmus’s hips wiggle and he tightens his grip to keep the young man still under his mouth, desperate for more of that sweet slick. He licks and licks until the entire area is clean of slick before he seals his mouth over the hole and plunges his tongue inside.

Erasmus cries out as he is breached and his hands scramble against the stone, trying to find purchase. His entire body raises up onto his tiptoes but Torveld pulls him back down with a delighted chuckle, pressing his mouth even harder against his entrance. The omega whimpers and leans his forehead against his arm on the wall. 

It doesn’t take long for Erasmus to come, crying out and practically vibrating under Torveld’s skillful hands and mouth. It lasts longer than normal, but Torveld works Erasmus through each wave of pleasure with deep licks of his tongue. When Erasmus finally slumps against the wall, Torveld licks carefully over his hole, clearing it of any slick, before he sits back on his heels to take in the sight before him: Erasmus debauched and hiding his face in the crook of his arm. His hips still twitch with leftover pleasure, his thighs wobble under his own weight, and whimpers pour from his lips, muffled by his arm. 

Desire floods Torveld, hot and insistent, but he pushes the feeling down in favor of caring for his still overwhelmed omega. He lurches to his feet, knees sore but worth it, rights the younger man’s clothing and guides his leg down from the large crate.

“Come,” he says softly as he sits upon the crate, back to the wall. He steadies Erasmus’s still trembling body as the young man curls into his lap.

Erasmus pants against his collarbone and Torveld runs gentle fingers through his curls as the omega tries to relax from the pleasure. For some reason, this takes longer than normal too and Torveld can only guess the intensity is due to the onset of his heat. He hums and presses a gentle kiss to a sweaty temple.

“I should,” the omega mumbles and his clumsy hands pull at Torveld’s tunic.

The alpha chuckles and grips his hand, intertwining their fingers instead. “Relax. My knot will still be there with you smelling so good.”

Erasmus flushes and curls further into his arms. Torveld kisses his forehead and wraps his arms around the slighter man, content to hold him until the pleasure clears from his mind. 

“I wish I could spend my heat with you,” Erasmus whispers, then flushes a bright red. 

“Why are you embarrassed?”

“It’s too early in our courtship for that and…”

“And?”

“It’s not fair to you since we can’t mate.”

Torveld hums and squeezes Erasmus a little tighter. It is early in their courtship for spending a heat together, but Torveld finds that the idea thrills him, not that it makes him think of Erasmus as lesser for his own desires. Erasmus’s second point is more of an issue. Torveld has spent heats with omegas before, friends or trusted servants who wanted to feed the pleasure instead of trying to fight it. Each time, he desired to mate, to mark the neck before him with a bite and entice the omega to bite in return. It was easy to fight off the instinct with those omegas; he had no real desire to mate them for life. But with Erasmus it will be hard to fight against something he truly wants when his head will be hazy with the omega’s scent and his knot will be doing most of the thinking for him.

They can’t mate, not while Erasmus is still owned by Govart. There are ways to undo a mating that are painful to the mated pair and Torveld has no doubt Govart would demand it, if only to leave them both in agony.

“What have you done for heats before?” he asks. Neutrality is best until he can think through all the ways spending a heat together can go wrong and all the ways to keep those things from happening.

“Govart sees me through them.” Erasmus shrugs. “I’ve gone to the unmated ward before, but it hurts. Govart is at least kind during heats.” 

“Really?” Torveld’s eyebrows raise and Erasmus nods, staring at the alpha’s collarbone, his cheek pressed to Torveld’s shoulder.

“I think it’s his alpha instinct. It’s not terrible.”

“How have you managed to not get pregnant?”

“There’s a flower. I brew a tea with its petals and drink it the day before and after.”

Torveld runs his hand up and down Erasmus’s arm as he thinks. The blonde’s fingers dance lightly over his exposed collarbone and shoulder. 

“What were you planning to do for this heat?”

Erasmus ducks his head and halts the progress of his hand to grasp Torveld’s tunic. “I…” he chews his lip and Torveld nudges him to continue. “I was going to spend it with Govart.” His cheeks are mottled with the ugly red of shame, not the pretty blush that usually adorns them in Torveld’s presence. 

Jealousy churns Torveld’s stomach but he tries to tamp it down before Erasmus can see it on his face. He forces himself to think through Erasmus’s statement logically. It would make sense for the omega to let Govart sate his heat: Govart has done it before, he is kind while doing so, apparently, and there is no risk of angering the alpha like there would be if Torveld helped Erasmus through it instead. Still, Torveld has never wanted anything more.

“What if I swear to you that I won’t mate you?” he asks, “That I’ll see you through your heat and Govart won’t find out?”

“How?”

“Kallias will say you’re in the ward, but you can come to my rooms. The guards won’t let Govart anywhere near the ward to check. You can bathe afterwards, twice even.”

“And if you bite me?”

“I won’t.” Erasmus looks at him, a single eyebrow raised and lips pursed with doubt.

Torveld sighs. “It will be hard, but I can control myself.”

“Even when I’m writhing on your knot, begging for a bite?” Torveld groans and his hips twitch at the image, nudging his half-hard cock against Erasmus’s thigh. Erasmus snorts and waves his hand as if to indicate he was right.

“Yes, even then. I won’t lose you because of my own instincts,” he growls and tightens his arms around Erasmus’s waist.

Honey eyes search his face, darting over his expression as the younger man thinks. Finally, he nods. “Alright. When should we meet?”

“After supper. That’ll give me time to make arrangements with Laurent and my guards to ensure we’re not disturbed.” He grins at the omega and his body thrums with excitement as he thinks of all the ways they can spend the next few days tangled and knotted together. Erasmus turns in his lap and presses a kiss to his lips. 

“I can’t wait,” Erasmus says. He smiles that little half-smile that means he’s up to something and shimmies out of Torveld’s lap to sink to his knees. The alpha smirks and buries his fingers in golden locks as Erasmus pushes up the skirt of his tunic to reveal his hardening length.

“Me either,” he breathes.


	13. Chapter 13

“Explain the plan to me again,” Laurent drawls, fingers tracing over the fabric of the cushion he lounges on. Torveld invited the other prince into his rooms for an early supper, figuring it would give him the privacy to tell Laurent of his idea and allow him to eat a full meal before he would be too focused on caring for his omega to do so. If he went down to the dining hall now and caught a whiff of Erasmus’s almost-heat scent, he’d drag the omega into the nearest room and all their planning would go to waste.

He sighs and turns away from primping his hair and tunic in front of a small looking glass. He’s nervous and wants to look good for Erasmus, even if he knows the man will be too blissed out on pheromones to truly notice. 

“After supper, Erasmus will come here. When Govart goes looking for him, Kallias will say he’s gone to the ward.”

“And the day after? When he smells of you?”

“I have a bath for him to soak in and enough soap to cover the scent.”

Laurent’s eyes narrow at Torveld and the alpha knows he is only thinking over his words, looking for any way the plan can go wrong. “And if you bite him?”

“I won’t.”

Laurent snorts and shakes his head. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Your concern is noted.”

“And swiftly cast aside,” Laurent retorts. Torveld nods with a smug grin and Laurent glares at him.

“You are thinking with your knot.”

“I am thinking supper is almost over.”

Laurent sighs and pushes himself up from his comfortable position on one of armchairs. “And I am thinking we have been friends for too long since you’re telling me to leave a room in my own castle.”

Torveld opens his mouth to respond, unsure exactly what he will say to rebuttal the blonde, but a knock at the door interrupts him. His brows furrow. Erasmus wouldn’t knock and risk standing outside the door longer than he had to in case any wandering eyes came to this side of the castle. Torveld told him expressly the door would be unlocked for him.

“Enter,” he calls.

The door swings open to reveal Kallias. His eyes are red and puffy, and his lips swollen from biting at them, a habit he picked up from Erasmus. Tears stream down his face and he keeps his gaze glued to the floor even as Laurent ushers him into the room and closes the door behind him. Worry tickles the back of Torveld’s mind and has him crossing the room to Kallias, who stands frozen on the threshold, wringing his hands and trembling.

“What happened?” Torveld asks as he reaches out to grasp Kallias’s shoulders. The omega flinches away and shakes his head, a sob punching out of his chest. Torveld aches to comfort him, but he knows better than to touch Kallias when the brunette just rebuked him.

“H-he tricked me.” His lower lip trembles. Torveld glances at Laurent, but the blonde’s eyes narrow at Kallias, mind obviously churning with possibilities.

“Who? How?”

“Govart. He said if I brought Eras to the old training room I could see him through his heat so he didn’t have to go to the ward.” 

“Where is he now?”

“Govart showed up and he—” Kallias buries his face in his hands and sobs.

Rage explodes inside Torveld. Blood rushes through his ears and black crackles on the edge of his vision, tunneling it until all he can see is the door. _Protect, protect, protect_ , his instinct screams at him. He doesn’t remember moving, only Laurent’s face swimming in front of his gaze as the blonde blocks the exit with his own body.

“Move. Now,” he snarls.

“And what? Let you get Erasmus hurt?” Laurent growls.

Torveld snarls even louder, anger suddenly turned toward his friend to dare suggest he would hurt his omega.

“I’m going to save him!”

“If you go to him, Govart will fight you.”

“I’ll win.” He tries to push through Laurent, but the other man plants his legs and grabs him. They grapple, neither one able to fully overcome the other’s strength.

“And if they are already knotted? Govart will tear himself out of Erasmus.” Torveld hesitates and Laurent sees his opening. He pushes Torveld hard and the alpha stumbles back two steps before finding his footing. Laurent straightens, unruffled from their impromptu wrestling match, and glares hard at Torveld, practically daring the alpha to try for the door again.

“He won’t hesitate to hurt Erasmus if he feels threatened by you.”

“He’s hurting Erasmus now,” Torveld argues, anger still boiling under his skin but not searing like the rage of before.

“Kallias, what is Govart like during your heat?” 

Kallias sniffles. “He’s n-nice. Gentle really,” Kallias murmurs, voice shaking with emotion.

Torveld growls. Gentle or not, he doesn’t want to think of Govart with _his_ omega. He glares at Laurent but Laurent only looks unimpressed in the face of his anger. “I know you don’t like it, but Erasmus told you his plan was to spend his heat with Govart. Think with your brain and not your knot for Erasmus’s sake.”

Torveld heaves air hard enough to make his chest and shoulders rise and fall with the force of his breathing. His mind races as he tries to cool his anger enough to think. Slowly his vision and hearing clear. The anger is still there, churning in his chest and thrumming through his limbs, but he no longer feels out of control. He becomes aware of Laurent’s hands grasping his shoulders, unaware of the man having moved closer to him, and he slumps until it seems those hands are the only things holding him up. 

“What do I do?” he mutters, suddenly weary. 

“You leave Erasmus with Govart.” Torveld bristles and Laurent tuts. “He will be fine, even if you don’t like it.” 

“I’ll go mad sitting here knowing that Erasmus is—” He can’t finish the thought. He hangs his head and Laurent pats his shoulder in sympathy. “What do I do?” he repeats, voice weak with his despair.

“Take care of your omega.” Torveld’s eyebrows furrow. How is he supposed to care for Erasmus and leave him with Govart at the same time? Laurent glances to the side. He follows the gaze to find Kallias, unmoved from when he entered the room. Tears still pour down his face, but he clenches his hands at his sides even as he sniffles. 

“I’ll take my leave,” Laurent says quietly with a final squeeze to Torveld’s shoulder. Torveld should thank him from stopping him from his own stupidity, but he can’t take his eyes off the hurting omega at his side. He waits until the door clicks closed behind his friend to cross over to Kallias.

Kallias shakes with grief and stinks of fear as he gets closer. “I-I’m sorry,” he chokes and flinches when Torveld moves towards him. He must think that Torveld will strike him and that knowledge makes Torveld’s heart throb. He steps closer and wraps the omega in his arms, careful to be gentle and not to make Kallias feel trapped.

The gates that were holding back Kallias’s emotions burst open and he sobs into Torveld’s chest. His whole body convulses and he grips Torveld’s tunic tight in his hand as he cries. Torveld hushes him gently and cups the back of his head, scratching his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. He inhales deep breathes of jasmine and even though the scent is a soured with fear and sorrow, it grounds him.

Eventually, Kallias’s tears slow and his sobs lessen to whimpers and the occasional sniffle. Torveld pulls back from the omega and grasps his shoulder, ducking a little so they are on eye level. Kallias stares at the ground, shame clear on his face. Torveld waits until those blue eyes rimmed with red glance up at him.

“Will you sit with me?” he asks tone as tender as he can make it. He doesn’t know why, but tears well in Kallias’s eyes again, even as the omega nods. He takes Kallias’s hand in his own and leads him to one of the plush arm chairs. He sits and before he can indicate the chair next to him, Kallias climbs into his lap and nuzzles his face into the alpha’s neck. He is not so cruel to deny the omega the comfort he needs.

“Please, don’t hate me,” Kallias whispers. Torveld’s heart clenches with sympathy.

“I won’t lie to you, Kallias. I am angry, but I don’t hate you.” He tightens his arms around the younger man before loosening his grip enough for Kallias to sit up. “I want you to explain yourself though. I think you owe me that.”

Kallias nods, eyes downcast as he pushes himself off Torveld’s chest. He sits sideways in the chair, legs thrown over Torveld’s thighs, and fiddles with the hem of his chiton.

“Govart smelled Erasmus this morning. While the two of you were away, he told me I could see Erasmus through his heat if I just brought Eras to the old training room. He had a key for it and everything.” Kallias swallows, glances up at Torveld, and then back down to his hands. “I told Eras that you said to meet him somewhere else and that it was a surprise so I had to take him there.” 

“Then Govart locked you out and kept Erasmus for himself?” Torveld supplies when Kallias goes silent. Tears well in the omega’s eyes and drip down his cheeks as he nods.

A thought crosses Torveld’s mind and it’s like the final corner of a painting being filled in, leaving the viewer with the entire picture to gaze upon.

“You love him.” It’s a statement, not a question, but Kallias nods anyway. “That’s why you wanted to see him through his heat.”

“I’ve never been allowed before. Govart says two omegas together are wrong.”

Torveld is stunned. Suddenly, it all makes sense: Kallias’s anger at Torveld for wanting to court him, his cold treatment of Torveld in recent days, and finally his actions that very night. He wanted Erasmus as his own and saw this as his one opportunity before Torveld took the omega away.

“Does Erasmus know?” Kallias sniffs and shakes his head. “For what it’s worth, I think he loves you too. I just don’t think he’s given himself permission to realize it.” Vere is cruel in their prejudice of two omegas mating and while the same is not true of Patras or Akielos, Erasmus and Kallias have spent most of their time as omegas in Vere.

“He’ll hate me after this,” Kallias says and his tears rise anew.

Torveld hushes him and cups his face in his hand to brush away those tears with his thumbs. “Never. We can fix this, but I need your help.”

“How?” Blue eyes are filled with doubt and sorrow and Torveld wishes he could kiss the omega and assuage him of his guilt. He smiles at Kallias instead and clasps his shoulder. 

“Do you have your library key?”

Kallias’s brows furrow in confusion but he fishes the key from where it lays under his tunic on a cord around his neck.

In silence, the pair freshen up, Kallias splashing his face with water to clear the tears from it and Torveld exchanging his wet tunic for a dry one. Within moments they are seated at a table in the library, door locked securely behind them to ensure they are free from distraction or late-night lovers looking for privacy. Books are stacked high on the surface of the table and the library is lit only by two candles before them, casting dark shadows on the shelves behind their chairs. They sit side-by-side, but they don’t touch as they each read, desperate now more than ever to find the ritual that has trapped the two omegas in Govart’s servitude. 

“I was jealous of you,” Kallias says in a quiet voice after long moments of studious silence. Torveld looks up to see Kallias fiddling with a corner of a page and staring at the book in front of him, eyes unseeing. “That’s how he was able to trick me.”

Torveld slides his hand over the surface of the table and clasps Kallias’s fidgeting hand. Blue eyes flick up at him, unsure and nervous. “I wanted to court you too, not just Erasmus. I thought the three of us would be happy together.” He smiles and he’s sure it is pained. “You said no, so I honored your wish.”

“And now? Would you still desire me after I’ve made such a mess of things?”

Torveld warms with affection and tucks a strand of brown hair behind Kallias’s ear as he leans forward. “Yes,” he breathes against Kallias’s mouth before sealing their lips together. Kallias jerks against him and Torveld is worried for a moment that he will flinch away or push Torveld off, but he doesn’t. He opens his mouth on a whimper and presses his slim chest against Torveld’s broader one as Torveld deepens their kiss. It’s different from kissing Erasmus, who’s so gentle and willing to let Torveld lead. Kallias meets him halfway and entices Torveld with skillful flicks of his tongue. 

They part and Kallias teeters in his chair, dark eyelashes fluttering against his tan cheeks. He pants softly and this close Torveld can count the few faint freckles that dust over his nose and cheekbones and usually blend into his olive skin. Kallias pushes his hands against Torveld’s shoulders when the alpha goes to duck in for another kiss. Torveld is worried for a moment he pushed Kallias too far until the omega grins up at him.

“Now I know why Eras likes your tongue,” he teases and his eyes flash with mischief. 

Torveld barks a laugh and hugs the omega to his chest. “Simple kisses are not the reason he likes my tongue,” he growls playfully into Kallias’s hair. He expects the omega to push him off and quip something back, but instead jasmine blooms around them. He chuckles and makes a show of breathing in deeply. Kallias pushes him away then to blush and wring his hands together in his lap.

“Sorry,” he says, blush brightening further on his cheeks. 

“Never apologize for your body’s reactions.” Torvled smiles and clasps a hand on his shoulder. “I’d be happy to show you my skill one day, but not so soon into our courtship.”

Blue eyes widen in surprise. “Courtship?”

Torveld chuckles. “If you’ll have me.”

“But,” he hesitates and his eyes dart around the dark library, refusing to look at Torveld. “I’ve ruined everything.”

“You will have to make things right with Erasmus.” Kallias hangs his head, looking miserable. Torveld grasps his chin and tips his head up so they can look at each other. “Erasmus has a soft place in his heart for you. He will forgive you.” Kallias looks a little unsure, but he nods anyway.

They return to their books. Only this time, Kallias pushes their chairs together and tucks himself snug against Torveld’s side. Torveld presses a kiss to the top of his head and wraps an arm around his waist before turning his attention to Vaskian traditions.

***  
The night is old. Outside of the library, the castle is silent, revelers and court gossips finally turned to sleep after draining their cups in the taverns. The candles have burned about halfway, wax pooling in the tin dishes they are each set in. Given the thickness of the candle, Torveld knows it’s been about three hours since he and Kallias ventured to the library to research and distract their minds from worry. The stack of books at his left elbow is taller with finished, useless tomes, although the stack between them is still a daunting height. His eyes are weary and his back aches from sitting bent over a book without moving for too long. Torgeid would surely admonish his poor posture if he was here. 

But Torgeid is in Patras and his companion is far more pleasing to the eye. He looks over at Kallias and can’t help the fondness that blossoms in his chest. Kallias sits slumped over a book, his cheek propped in his hand. As Torveld watches, he slides further and further down until his arm bends fully and his head rests atop it on the table. His hair is a mess of frizzed curls and strands fall forward over his brow and cheeks. In sleep, his slackened face makes him look younger and Torveld wishes he could commission an artist to capture this moment. If their courtship lasts, he will have an artist paint a miniature of both of his boys embracing and smiling and keep the image on a chain near his heart where they belong.

He shakes his head to ward off the image. The more tired he is, the more his mind tends to fill with idle fancies, unbridled by logic.

Torveld places a hand on Kallias bare shoulder and gently shakes the omega awake. “Huh? Wha?” Kallias pushes himself up and rubs at his eyes.

“You fell asleep.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he mutters. He pulls the book closer to him and blinks hard to try and refocus on the words before him.

“It’s late.” Torveld squeezes his shoulder. “Let me escort you to your room so you can get real sleep.”

Kallias shakes his head. “It smells like Eras…”

Torveld doesn’t understand at first. Of course the room smells like Erasmus, they share quarters. Blue eyes look up at him and he sees the guilt swimming in their depths. Erasmus’s scent, especially if the sweetness of his oncoming heat still lingers, would only remind Kallias who is missing from the bed and why. Torveld brushes his fingers through soft hair and smiles at the younger man.

“I can take you to my rooms. For sleep, only,” he adds in a serious tone before Kallias can imply something more. 

Kallias smiles, soft with sleep, and nods. When Torveld reaches to tidy up the table around them, Kallias places a hand on his forearm. “Leave the books. I’ll stack them for you in the morning and read when I have time.”

“Don’t be silly,” Torveld says, although he leaves the books as they are. “I’m coming with you tomorrow and the next few days.”

“You don’t have to spend the whole time with me. Erasmus and I are both used to managing the library on our own.”

Torveld presses a kiss to Kallias’s forehead. “I want to.” 

He blows out one of the candles and takes the other to guide their way through the dark hallways, torches surely snuffed this late into the evening. Kallias stumbles a little when he rises, sleep making his limbs clumsy, so Torveld wraps an arm around his waist to help steady him on their path. 

The pair is silent as they trudge through the dark and barren halls to Torveld’s rooms. The silence holds as they both ready for sleep. Kallias crawls into bed first, lying close to one side of the large mattress, legs and arms tucked close to his body as if he is trying to take up the least amount of space possible. Torveld snuffs the candle, lies on his back in the center of the bed, and stretches a hand out to brush over Kallias’s shoulder blades.

“I invited you into my bed for your comfort, not so you sleep so stiffly.”

Kallias turns and looks at Torveld with questioning eyes before he shuffles closer and carefully lays his cheek against the man’s shoulder as if worried the alpha will reject him if he moves too quickly. Torveld wraps an arm around Kallias’s shoulders and presses a kiss to his temple. 

Sleep tugs at his eyelids and the worry from the day finally catches him, pressing his body heavily into the bedding below. Just as sleep is about to overcome him, Kallias speaks.

“Do you really think he’s okay?”

Torveld grunts and forces himself to blink awake. He doesn’t answer right away, letting his mind mull over Kallias’s question so his answer is genuine. Erasmus is probably in the throes of his heat and desperate for any knot at this point. If given the choice, he is sure Erasmus would rather Torveld at his back than Govart, but Torveld is not naïve. Erasmus was going to go to Govart first, if only to avoid the ward and keep his alpha owner from being even more aggressive towards Torveld until they could find a way to free him. The reasoning isn’t right, but Erasmus was adamant that Govart was kind during heats. Torveld has to trust Erasmus in this because to do otherwise would imply he thinks he knows better for the omega than Erasmus does.

“I think so,” he mutters. Kallias hums and nuzzles into his shoulder. Soon, sleep takes them both.


	14. Chapter 14

The days of Erasmus’s heat pass in slow increments, both Kallias and Torveld too aware of the absence of the blonde to allow time to pass unnoticed. Torveld cancels his morning rides with Laurent and while disappointed—not that he shows it past an irritated twitch of a thin eyebrow—Laurent seems to understand his desire to be at Kallias’s side. He even joins the two men in the mid-afternoon the first day to further his own research about Govart’s contract with the omegas. Summer is soon to end and Torveld feels the urgency to free Erasmus and Kallias like a heavy weight upon his shoulders, immovable and incessant.

Kallias was right when he claimed he could manage the library independently. He completes his daily tasks with a singlemindedness that makes them go faster than when he and Erasmus chat and play around, and hangs a wooden sign on the door of the library that announces his planned return when he makes deliveries. Sometimes, Kallias leaves the sign and Torveld is all too happy to set aside the books for a moment and pull the omega into his lap for heated kisses and gentle caresses. At night, they kiss as they lay cuddled together in bed, but proceed no further in their courtship than that, even if their scents tinge with arousal. 

It is obvious that Kallias feels the weight of Erasmus’s absence more than Torveld does. The alpha is worried, of course, but he stifles that worry with trust in Erasmus’s judgement and placates himself by reading more ancient traditions, the only thing he can truly do to help Erasmus at this point. That and keep a careful eye on Kallias, who withers as the day wears on.

Kallias seems fine in the mornings, when he is busy doing the work of two men, but once the daily chores are completed and he has nothing with which to focus, the guilt creeps in. Torveld can see it happen in slow increments. As the morning turns to afternoon, he deflates until a line appears between his brows and his lips turn down to a perpetual frown. Torveld tries to distract him with kind words and sweet kisses, sure to make Kallias smile given the novelty of their first few days of courtship, but soon after, Kallias’s face clouds and he huddles over a book with renewed determination born of self-loathing.

The afternoon of the second day of Erasmus’s heat, Kallias sits hunched over a book, shoulder turned slightly from Torveld as if the omega wishes he could curl inside himself. 

“Kallias?” Torveld says softly. Kallias doesn’t react and Torveld can see his eyes are unfocused as if he is seeing beyond the page in front of him.

“Kallias,” Torveld calls again and places his hand on Kallias’s shoulder. The brunette flinches and looks up at him, startled.

“Are you alright?” Kallias nods his head, but the movement is too quick, formed of desperation to be alright instead of the true feeling. Torveld searches his face for a moment, then comes to a decision. He reaches over and shuts the book Kallias’s was reading with a snap.

“Hey!” Kallias protests and tries to open the book again, but Torveld pulls it away before he can.

“You need a break.”

“I said I was fine. Give me back my book.” Kallias tries to grab the book, but Torveld places it on the pile in the center of books they still want to look through and lays his hand on the top so Kallias cannot snatch it away.

“You’re upset and it’s keeping you from focusing. Let’s close the library for an hour and clear our heads so we can help Erasmus effectively.”

Kallias chews his bottom lip, thinking over Torveld’s reasoning. The prince doesn’t admit he wants to treat Kallias to a private outing, a proper beginning to their courtship. The omega is too consumed with self-flagellation to allow himself to enjoy something like that, even if he truly needs it. But Torveld knows he won’t be able to pass up an opportunity to make himself more helpful to his dearest friend. 

“I can’t close the library in the middle of the day,” Kallias says. “The head servant will be upset if he finds out.”

“I’ll handle the servant.”

Kallias hesitates before finally nodding. Torveld grasps his hands with a smile, heart feeling as if it has grown with his elation.

They leave the library after Kallias secures the wooden sign to the door. Torveld takes the omega’s hand in his own and confidently leads him out of the castle and towards the stables. His horse stands tied to a post, already tacked for their ride, a small bag tied to the back of the saddle.

“You planned this,” Kallias accuses, although his voice lacks anger. Torveld smiles at him and offers a hand to help Kallias into the saddle first. The brunette smirks, pulls himself into the saddle without assistance, and takes up the reigns without hesitation. Witnessing the omega be so bold after being so subdued in the library fills Torveld with joy and a flicker of desire. 

“Have you ridden before?” he asks, eyeing the way Kallias sits in the saddle and grasps the reins properly. 

“Enough.” Kallias shrugs with an easy confidence that is rare for an omega. The desire flickers again in Torveld’s belly, but he ignores it. It’s too early in their courtship to allow his desires to run rampant.

Torveld hefts himself into the saddle behind Kallias. It’s a tight squeeze in the saddle that forces Kallias’s backside to press into the curve of Torveld’s hips. He worries for a moment that it’s too close, that he will offend Kallias with his forwardness. He almost calls for a stablehand to ready another horse but Kallias smiles over his shoulder and inches back slightly until their bodies are pressed together in a line. Torveld wills his cock not to respond and tries to focus instead of the comfort of having his omega so close instead of the lust that omega stirs in him.

“Where to?” Kallias asks as he nudges the horse forward. They take to the path towards the forest in a slow trot, Kallias guiding the horse with gentle commands and sure tugs of the reigns as Torveld murmurs directions into his ear. 

Soon, they come to a small clearing bathed in dappled sunlight and shade from the trees above. There is a small stream that runs through the center of the clearing, water barely ankle deep. The two men dismount and leave the horse to graze as they kick off their sandals and sit upon the bank to dip their toes in the water. Kallias leaves space between them and Torveld allows it, recognizing the omega’s need after being pressed together in the saddle for long moments. He watches as Kallias cups cool water from the stream and splashes it over the back of his neck to clear the sweat from the heat of the day. Water runs down his bronze skin in tiny rivulets and Torveld has to look away before he does something crazy like chase that water with his tongue. If he was with Erasmus, who he has courted much longer, he wouldn’t hesitate to give in to his more ludicrous desires if only to hear the blonde giggle. 

Torveld passes Kallias a skin of water and an apple from the bag they brought before setting his own apple aside to eat later. The clearing is quiet save for the bubbling water and the singing of birds. Torveld closes his eyes and can feel himself relax in increments as he basks in the feeling of cool water running over his feet and listens to the sounds of nature and the soft breathing of the man at his side.

“I don’t deserve this,” Kallias says suddenly, tone sullen. Torveld glances at him out of the corner of his eye to see the omega sitting curled with his knees held to his chest and half eaten apple dangling from his hand. 

“You do.”

“I ruined Erasmus’s heat with you.” Kallias stares at his feet as he digs his toes into the soft sand, blue eyes filled with sorrow.

Torveld hums and thinks of how to respond to his companion. He knows Kallias will not appreciate flippancy at Erasmus’s situation, nor can he respond that way given his own worry for the omega. Still, he aches for a way to reassure Kallias.

“Erasmus and I will have many heats together,” he says.

“That doesn’t fix what I did.”

“True, but does punishing yourself fix it? Allow Erasmus to punish you if you feel like you must pay retribution.”

“Erasmus won’t punish me for it. He’s too forgiving,” Kallias sneers.

“Then allow him to forgive you. It is he that you have wronged. Shouldn’t you trust how he responds instead of taking it into your own hands?” Kallias is quiet so Torveld places a hand on his shoulder and continues. “You were tricked, Kallias. It’s not like you and Govart planned this.”

Kallias sighs but nods. Torveld scoots across the sand until he can wrap an arm around Kallias’s waist, still leaving inches between their sides. The omega allows it, watching the water drift over their toes.

“Will you tell me about yourself?” Torveld asks after a few moments of peaceful quiet.

“You already know about me.” 

“Then tell me something I don’t know about you.”

Kallias takes a bite of his apple and chews while he thinks. “I like to dance,” he says finally.

“Really?” Torveld’s eyebrows raise in his surprise. Of all their conversations in the library, Kallias has never mentioned dancing. “What kind of dance?”

“Anything really.” Kallias takes a swig of water and then offers the skin to the prince. “I know a lot of the proper dances from serving banquets and then practicing with Erasmus in our rooms. But my favorite doesn’t have steps. It’s just when you let the music guide you.”

“I’d love to see it sometime,” Torveld says, “I’m sure you move beautifully.”

Kallias blushes but smiles. “Erasmus told me you were flirtatious.”

Torveld chuckles. “I can’t seem to stop myself around gorgeous men.”

The flush on Kallias’s cheeks darkens and his freckles stand out against the coloring. “Erasmus and I can perform for you sometime. He can sing really well.”

Torveld smiles and cups the omega’s cheek in his hand. He knew Erasmus could sing and play kithara, although he hadn’t actually heard the blonde do either yet. 

“I’d love that,” he says just before pressing his lips to Kallias’s. The omega sighs, a pretty noise, and opens to Torveld’s tongue. They kiss, slow and gentle, as the brook runs over their feet and the birds whistle above their heads. Torveld is filled with a spark of desire and he can smell jasmine filling the clearing as their mouths move against the other. He presses forward, more insistent in the kiss although no rougher, and Kallias matches him in passion, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him even further into their kiss.

There’s a whicker behind him and a puff of air against the back of his head. He pulls from Kallias’s mouth with a laugh as his horse takes the core of the apple from the brunette’s grasp and munches it right by his ear. Kallias laughs with him, blue eyes sparkling with joy as the horse snorts again and snuffles along Kallias’s wrists and Torveld’s neck for more apples.

“Handsy beast,” Torveld mutters, which only makes Kallias laugh more. He pulls his apple out of the bag and offers it to the horse. Kallias shakes against his side, body succumb to a fit of giggles as the horse chews the apple and then moves away at a wave of Torveld’s hand.

The alpha watches as the omega continues to giggle for minutes after. His laugh is melodic and Torveld finds himself smiling at the noise, heart full of affection. 

“Thank you,” Kallias gasps finally, fingers wiping at the corner of his eyes as if tears have gathered there. 

“I would have brought more apples if I knew feeding a horse would bring you this much joy.”

Kallias grins and shakes his head. “It is you who brings me this much joy.”

The alpha cannot help but seal their lips together again. The library is closed for more than the hour Torveld promised, but when they journey back, Kallias seems happier and that is all that matters.

***

Heats can last anywhere from three to five days, although Kallias is confident Erasmus’s will be done in three. On the fourth morning, Torveld wakes up to find the bed empty, the sun already risen, and a torn parchment on the pillow Kallias used. 

_I wanted to let you sleep more, given how hard you have been working lately. Come to the library when you are awake. -K_

Easy enough instructions to follow. Torveld readies for the day, stops by the kitchens to request a basket filled with an assortment of fruits and bread, sure the sugar can help Erasmus recover if Kallias was right about his return, and makes his way to the library. Close to the doorway, he can smell the lingering traces of oranges and grins to himself, eager to see his lover after the days spent without him.

Before he can take more than two steps into the library, Kallias blocks his path, arms thrown wide as if to keep Torveld from stepping around him. Torveld can see Erasmus working at the front table. He stares, but the blonde doesn’t move to greet him or even look up from his books. His brows furrow and he tries to look at Kallias for answers, but the brunette is staring at his collarbone, expression cloudy.

“What happened?” Kallias shrugs and tears prick at the corner of his eyes but do not fall. Torveld clasps a hand on his shoulder and ducks down so they are at eye level. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” he says and finally looks at Torveld, eyes full of sorrow. “Something went wrong and he won’t tell me.”

Fear grips Torveld, but he pushes it down before it can fully take hold. No use being scared before he even talks to Erasmus. He smiles at Kallias, trying to show confidence he doesn’t feel, and kisses the man’s forehead, then his lips. 

“I’ll talk to him.” 

Torveld walks to the table, after handing the basket to Kallias, mind awhirl with possibilities that he bats away like annoying flies. He half expects Erasmus to come around it and greet him after days of not seeing one another, but the omega doesn’t seem to notice his presence until he stands right in front of him. Honey eyes look up and that’s when Torveld notices.

Erasmus looks all wrong. His eyes are cloudy and lifeless as they look up at the prince as if seeing right through him. His shoulders curl forward just slightly and make him look exhausted. His beautiful hair has lost its sheen and appears the light brown it truly is instead of the gold it usually appears to be. His scent is off, but Torveld cannot place why.

“Erasmus?” Erasmus’s eyes blink slow and owlish, but he doesn’t move or greet Torveld. “What happened to you?”

“Govart saw me through my heat.” Even his voice sounds hollow. Torveld heart clenches hard and he reaches out to grasp the young man’s shoulder and shake him out of this strange stupor. Erasmus flinches back and Torveld’s fingers catch on limp curls instead, brushing them away from his neck. Torveld’s eyes narrow on the spot. There upon his beautiful, pale throat lies a mating mark. The set of teeth is clear even surrounded by dark bruising and torn at the edges as if Erasmus moved during the bite.

Bile splashes up Torveld’s throat and he takes a step backwards, eyes unseeing and mind unbelieving. “Erasmus, what is this?”

“A mating mark.” The blonde turns back to his books, movement sluggish. 

“But… I thought…”

“Excuse me, sire. I need to focus on my work.”

Torveld draws breath in and out of his chest, trying to pant past the pain that grips him. Sorrow and anger churn in his stomach and he fears that he will be sick on the floor. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He is supposed to free Kallias and Erasmus, then mate them both when they’re ready. Fingers brush his shoulder and he whirls to find Kallias looking at him, eyes reflecting the immense pain he feels. The omega opens his mouth to say something, but Torveld cuts him off.

“Did he tell you anything?” Kallias shakes his head, tears in his eyes. “This doesn’t make sense. I—” he chokes as some emotion tries to force its way out of his throat, anger or despair, he isn’t sure. He steels himself and grips Kallias’s shoulders. “I have to go. See if you can find anything out.”

“How? Wait!” Kallias grabs his wrist and stops him from stepping away. “What should I do with him?”

“Take care of him. Like you always have.” He presses a kiss to Kallias’s forehead and allows himself to breath in comforting jasmine for a second to try and cool his already warring thoughts. 

He storms out of the library, not sure where to go or what to do. That uncertainty only compounds the absolute despair he feels knowing his omega was claimed by someone else.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started this fic, my plan was to focus on Torveld and Erasmus and their POVs. Kallias forced his way in here because who better to tell the story when Erasmus is a zombie and Torveld is alpha-raging? So you finally FINALLY get to see what Kallias thinks about this whole thing. I thought about going back and adding scenes from his POV for consistency, but they didn't seem as needed as this chapter.
> 
> He'll have more chapters from now on.

Kallias stares at Torveld’s retreating back for long moments. He stares towards the doorway even after the alpha has already turned the corner, willing the man to come back and not to leave him alone. A glance at Erasmus, still checking in return books with slow movements, makes the pain in Kallias’s chest double. His alpha left, and his dearest friend is only half of himself. It’s enough to make Kallias want to cry but that will do him no good without Torveld to hold him or Erasmus to wipe away his tears.

The whole situation is shite. The past three days being courted by Torveld were great, except for the lingering guilt that he was only granted the privacy of those days because he delivered his friend into the arms of a monster. And now? Now, the monster sunk his teeth into Erasmsus and Erasmus reciprocated in the throes of heat, effectively swearing himself to Govart for life and sealing himself away from Torveld and Kallias. Torveld would leave for Patras, Erasmus would move into Govart’s rooms, and Kallias would be alone and forgotten. 

He sniffles at his thoughts but doesn’t let the tears that burn his eyes fall down his cheeks. He brought this on them. He was selfish to try and have Erasmus for himself when his friend was happy with Torveld. 

There’s a loud thud behind him and he whirls to find Erasmus staring at a book that has fallen from the table, brow wrinkled as if trying to understand how the book fell. Kallias stoops and hands it to Erasmus, who takes it with a slow nod of his head.

This is Kallias’s penance. The gods, whoever they are, are angry at him. His punishment is to be at Erasmus’s side as he always has been, only now, he will have to watch as Erasmus drifts further from him and into Govart’s arms. 

He wants to laugh at the absurdity and cry at the cruelty all at once. His heart is a war of emotions that in the end, he squashes down, too painful to deal with at the moment. Torveld has a plan. He must, Kallias reasons. The alpha is too honorable to leave him to face his hurt and fear alone. Barely two days into their courtship, he took Kallias to a stream to make him feel better when they could have spent that time researching. He focuses on that memory—the feeling of being wrapped in his alpha’s embrace as water lapped at his ankles—and the emotions are easier to reign in and trap behind stone walls in his mind. If Erasmus were in his right mind, he’d be the first to put his faith in Torveld.

Kallias takes in a deep breath and bolsters himself for what he is about to do. Torveld charged him to care for Erasmus, but he cannot sit idly by as his friend suffers. If anyone can snap Erasmus from his stupor, it’s Kallias.

Kallias rounds the table to stand at Erasmus’s side. The blonde doesn’t react, still flipping through a returned book as he checks each page for damage. He’s about halfway through a stack of books that would normally take him half an hour to peruse and it’s been two hours since the sun rose and Kallias found Erasmus here already working. He places a gentle hand on Erasmus’s arm, skin chilled to the touch. Kallias doesn’t let the worry show on his face when those honey eyes blink up at him.

“Yes?” Erasmus asks, and his voice doesn’t carry the sweet tone of bells that Kallias first fell in love with.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

Erasmus’s lips twitch in a frown and the crease appears right between his brows like it usually does when he’s thinking too hard about something. Kallias wants to rub it away with the tip of his thumb, but he doesn’t. He won’t touch Erasmus too much when he doesn’t seem to be aware of what is happening, even if their relationship is usually filled with casual, friendly touches.

“I spent my heat with Govart. He mated me.”

“I thought you wanted to mate with Torveld.” Erasmus shrugs and turns back to the books before him. Kallias grips his shoulders and turns the other omega to face him. “Torveld was courting you. You two had plans to spend your heat together. Don’t you remember?”

“Govart took care of me.”

“And was mating the price?” Erasmus’s shoulders lift and fall in another shrug beneath his hands. Kallias growls. He thought reminding Erasmus of Torveld would get under the haze that ails the other man, but Erasmus’s eyes still stare unseeing at his face, expression completely unperturbed. 

“What about me?” he says and barrels forward before Erasmus can just shrug the concern away without all the facts. “Torveld is courting me now like you wanted. We were going to spend our lives at each other’s sides, remember?” He ducks his head to reconnect their eyes when Erasmus’s seem to gloss over more than before.

The corner of Erasmus’s lips twitch in something like a smile and his hand clasps over the back of one of Kallias’s. “Torveld will be good for you,” he says.

Hurt shocks through Kallias and makes his arms fall limp at his sides. Erasmus doesn’t seem to notice as he turns once again to the return pile of books. The hurt stings a little more at that. The man before him cannot truly be Erasmus. His Eras would do anything to clear the hurt from his body as they have for each other throughout their lives. His Eras would have embraced him as soon as he heard he and Torveld were courting. His Eras would tease him mercilessly for details and rib him good-naturedly for enticing the alpha while he was indisposed with heat.

His Eras would do a lot of things in this moment, but this half-Eras only picks up another book and flips through the pages. Kallias could tear his hair from his skull. His mind whirls with other ways to break Erasmus from the prison of his trance.

A memory floats to the forefront of his thoughts. They were giddy with wine Kallias snuck from the banquet they had just tended. They sat facing each other on their bed, passing the bottle back and forth and giggling at some courtier who had tried and failed to woo Prince Laurent. Erasmus’s cheeks were flushed with joy and wine and all Kallias remembers thinking was how pretty he looked before he pressed their lips together. He remembers the trembling in Erasmus’s body and the gentle way his mouth opened and his lips moved against Kallias’s own. He remembers their sweet scents mingling around them. He remembers wishing he could kiss the other omega like this without wine making them bold.

He glances at Erasmus but the blonde is oblivious to his thoughts and the change in his scent. _Worth a try_ , he figures. He grabs Erasmus’s shoulders, turns the man to face him again, and presses their lips together without hesitation. Erasmus’s lips are as soft as he remembers and the feeling of kissing him again makes pleasure tingle at his spine. Except, Erasmus doesn’t move like last time. His mouth is slack against Kallias’s, he doesn’t tremble or gasp, and his hands don’t come up to grip at Kallias’s tunic for more or even to push him away. Kallias tries to deepen it. He cups Erasmus’s jaw and flicks his tongue against the other man’s lips, remembering how that made Erasmus breathy with pleasure before. Erasmus still doesn’t react.

Kallias pulls away and Erasmus looks at him with empty eyes. “Govart would not like us kissing,” he says, void of all emotion, and turns back to his books like nothing happened. The words are an ugly echo of the same words said with a giggle and followed by another drunken press of sweet lips.

Tears prick his eyes and he wills himself not to cry, not to scream in frustration. 

“Oh,” Erasmus says. A single page flutters onto the floor from the book he just opened. 

“I’ll fix it,” Kallias mutters as he rounds the table to grab the page before Erasmus has even taken a step. “Just work on the next one.” He takes the book from Erasmus’s hand, gathers the knife, cords, quill, and parchment he will need, and sits at the table he and Torveld spent their time at the last few days. He’s far enough away from Erasmus he cannot smell the omega’s muted scent and if he closes his eyes, he can almost smell the trace of Torveld’s.

Mending a book is a tedious process, one that Erasmus finds more enjoyable than Kallias on a typical day. The first step is to rewrite the torn page so Kallias sighs and sets himself to task, inking his quill and copying the words onto fresh parchment. He barely pays attention to the words as he copies until he realizes he’s copied the word omega for the third time when he’s about halfway down the page. Curious, he looks at the board of the book titled simply _Delfeur_ , then goes back to scanning the page. _Tournament, omega prize, alpha challenger,_ the words blend together in Kallias’s head as his body starts to tingle in excitement. 

“Shit,” he gasps as he reaches the end of the torn page. He flips through the book to where the page came from and finds three more that finish the details of the first. “Eras! Who returned this book?”

“Prince Laurent.”

Kallias wants to laugh, to dance around, to grab Erasmus up in his arms and twirl the other omega until they are both dizzy. Prince Laurent has always returned his books in pristine condition and disparages anyone who so much as folds the corner of a page to mark their place. Kallias grins to himself and tears the other three pages he needs from the book.

“Eras, tend the library. I must find Torveld.” If Erasmus responds, Kallias is already too far from the library to hear it. He cannot tamper his excitement and runs down the halls, torn pages clenched in one hand.


	16. Chapter 16

Torveld prides himself on his composure. Although not as cold and distant as Laurent, he reigns in his emotions and responds to conflicts with level-headed decisions and a calm demeanor. There is nothing calm about how Torveld stalks from the library towards the training grounds, itching to swing his sword at something, preferably Govart’s ugly mug. He hopes for an insane moment that the other man is there, that he can challenge him to a fight and then accidentally take the fight too far, regardless of political ramifications. He’d gladly spend months in Auguste’s cells if that means Govart could no longer control the lives of _his_ two omegas.

Govart isn’t there, but Torveld still takes up a dull training sword and leaves a slew of Veretian and Patran guards bruised and bloody, his own captain, usually a superb swordsman, included. His chest heaves as he twirls his sword, waiting for another man to face him in the ring. A hand clasps his shoulder and he swings his sword in a wide arch without a thought. Laurent steps back easily, unarmed and face unperturbed as if Torveld didn’t just try to slice his belly and expose his innards to sunlight.

“You’re done,” he says as if commenting on the weather. Torveld snarls but Laurent only continues in a drawl, “A drink will quench your thirst and your anger.”

Torveld glares at the other prince and considers swinging again at Laurent’s cool face just to see the blonde flinch or even feel a sliver of the anger that consumes his entire body. He grips the hilt and growls, but Laurent just stares at him expectantly until Torveld throws the sword to the ground and stalks away. Laurent falls in step with him and walks silently at his side until they reach the tavern in town usually frequented by nobility.

“Not this one,” Laurent says and turns down a small alleyway. Torveld huffs, thinks about just going into the tavern alone and drowning his anger in the best meade Vere has to offer, but Laurent keeps walking and Torveld knows he is expected to follow. He does, trying to placate his alpha pride that he isn’t just blindly following orders.

Laurent leads him down narrow streets to the seedier side of Vere. The tavern he stops in front of leans to one side and the sign on the front is half worn away so Torveld cannot even read the name.

“Are you serious?” he asks, but Laurent ignores him and steps inside. Torveld has half a mind to leave him to watered-down spirits and the raucous crowd that fills the tavern even at midday. In the end, he follows his friend into the darkened tavern and finds him already sitting with Jord at a table in a corner that obscures them behind a beam but grants them view of the entire tavern.

“Why are we here?” he asks as he sits at Laurent’s side. Jord looks expectantly at Laurent as well and Torveld is struck for the thousandth time by Jord’s unrelenting loyalty to Laurent. Loyal enough to sit in this awful place with three tankards of ale and wait for his prince, surrounded by thugs that would love to rough up the captain of the prince’s guard just for the drinking story.

Laurent says nothing, only nods his head in direction of the bar. Torveld glances over for a moment, then stares openly. Govart sits on one of the stools, head thrown back in an obnoxious laugh at something the barmaid said. In one hand, he holds a large tankard of ale, two presumably empty ones at his elbow on the dirty bar. The other hand gropes at the waist of a pretty woman, obviously an omega given her delicate features. She giggles, probably trying to be coy, but ruins the subtlety by pressing her large breasts against Govart’s chest. Govart doesn’t seem to mind as his eyes stare down her tunic, cut low enough it would be more appropriate for a brothel than a tavern.

Rage burns anew in Torveld’s chest and he pushes himself up before he has even thought through his actions. A hand slaps down on his arm and pulls until he drops back into his chair. He snarls, but Laurent doesn’t even look at him. 

“Wait,” the blonde prince says and clenches down hard on his arm.

“Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t kill him right here.”

“Well, for one, murder is taken quite seriously in Vere,” Laurent drawls with a cool smile, “and the captain of my guard is sitting right here.” Jord looks a little pale at the idea of arresting a prince, but Torveld knows that he would do it anyway. Jord may be the most honorable man he knows, Auguste included, and would not hesitate to uphold Veretian law, even if that means arresting a man he has been friendly with for years.

“You’ve brought me here to sit and watch the man who took my lover from me, flirt with another?” He grinds his teeth against another growl.

“Look closer. What do you see?”

“I see a drunk and a harlot.”

“Look at his neck.”

Torveld’s eyes narrow on the place and scan the thick cords of his neck. There are old scars on one side, probably from a bandit’s knife, but the other side is smooth. _Unfortunate._

He opens his mouth to say something snide to Laurent, then snaps his jaw shut with a click and looks again. _His neck is smooth…_

“He doesn’t have a mark,” he breathes and his mind spins with the information. Hope fills him, and he turns wide eyes onto a smiling Laurent. Well, his lips are turned up in a miniscule half-smile, all the smile Torveld will get with this many lowlifes around. 

“Tell me about Erasmus’s condition,” Laurent says.

“It’s as if he is sleeping, but he is fully awake. He moves slowly and when he speaks, he sounds like he is barely thinking about his words.” Torveld catches a drip of moisture from his tankard and rubs it into the side of the smudged tin.

Laurent hums. “Yes, that sounds… accurate.” He stares sightless at his own ale before he seems to blink himself out of a memory. Torveld remembers a letter from Auguste many years ago describing a young Laurent in a stupor for days. The prince would have ridden for Vere then, if not for fresh snow that blanketed Patras and reached his knees, surely deeper in the mountains. The next letter came from Laurent himself, describing in indifferent terms how Auguste stripped the Regent of his authority and banished him to Chastillon, away from the brothers. They never spoke of Laurent’s ailment again. 

“I assure you, Erasmus is not hurt, and his state is not permanent.” Laurent clasps his shoulder and squeezes. “His body is fighting to dissolve the mating mark since it is incomplete. It takes all of his energy, hence his trance.”

“How long will it last?”

Laurent shrugs, a graceful rise and fall of slim shoulders. “Two, perhaps three days.”

“What if he bites Govart in that time?”

“If Erasmus resisted biting his alpha in heat, do you truly think he would mark Govart now?”

Torveld purses his lips together but shakes his head. The relief is palpable, spreading over his body and finally cooling the hot rage that has consumed him for hours. Erasmus will be alright, he thinks over and over as he takes a swig of weak ale. He still wants to tear Govart apart for trying to mate Erasmus when he was vulnerable to reciprocate without thought, but now that his rage simmers instead of boils, he can think through the best way to seek revenge.

“Prince Torveld,” Jord says and nods towards the door. Torveld turns to see Kallias in the doorway, panting as if he ran all the way from the palace, parchment clutched tight in his fist.


	17. Chapter 17

Kallias is out of breath and his legs are sore from running. The excitement that carried him scampering through the palace in search of Torveld has worn off to be replaced by a single-minded stubbornness to find the prince and smack him for being so hard to find. He tried Torveld’s rooms, the dining hall, the baths, the training grounds, and three taverns in town before coming to the worst of them all. Why Torveld would choose the sleaziest tavern escapes Kallias, unless of course the prince is looking to drown his sorrows between a pair of easily spread thighs. The thought fills him with anger and he shoves the door open a little too hard so that it bangs against the wall. It seems the whole crowd glances up at his entrance, though some go back to their drinks once they realize he isn’t a threat. Many, too many for Kallias’s comfort, stare openly when his scent carries into the tavern, lingering over his bare arms and thighs. The attention makes his skin itch. He clenches his jaw and tilts his chin up, refusing to cower at the lude gestures and comments some of the thugs make as he walks between their tables towards his alpha. 

Torveld stands as he nears and Kallias warms a little at the respectful gesture meant for men of equal or higher rank and noblewomen. Torveld probably doesn’t even realize he’s done it, which makes Kallias preen even more. A hand presses to the small of his back and Torveld ducks to lay a chaste kiss upon his lips.

“You are a hard man to find,” he says with a pout and smacks Torveld’s shoulder.

At least the prince looks sheepish as he takes his seat again. Kallias shifts to sit across from him but is stopped when a large hand grabs his wrist and tugs hard. Papers flutter to the table as he stumbles backwards. He slams face first into a solid chest with a grunt and looks up to see Govart, expression thunderous. 

“You little slut,” he snarls, spittle flying from his lips in anger. Fear jolts down Kallias’s spine and he tries to twist away, but Govart’s thick arm squeezes hard around his back until all he can do is try to gasp for air.

“Unhand him!” Torveld yells. There’s a crash of wood against stone, probably Torveld’s chair upending as he lunged to his feet.

“Piss off. You can’t tell me what to do with my own slave.” Rough hands flip Kallias around and pull him until his back is pressed tight to Govart’s chest, effectively shielding the alpha from Torveld’s rage. Torveld and Jord both stand, hands gripping the hilt of the swords, ready to fly at Govart the second Kallias is out of harm’s way. Prince Laurent has not moved from his seat. In fact, he seems completely undisturbed by the scene at his side as he sifts through the wrinkled papers, perusing each one with a bored expression. Anger overrides Kallias’s fear for a second. Surely his predicament deserves at least attention from his prince, but Laurent continues to ignore them all, even as the stench of omega fear permeates the alpha musk.

Govart chuckles and pulls Kallias back harder. Kallias squeaks when he feels it: the length of Govart’s staff hard against his backside. He twists and tries to struggle away but Govart only grinds up against him with a sharp laugh. 

Torveld draws his sword and the sound of steel sliding against metal fills the hushed tavern, quieting every voice until all eyes are on them. Kallias expects Govart to push him away and draw his own sword, eager for an excuse to swing at the prince. Fingers snatch his hair and jerk his head to the side, exposing the vulnerable line of his neck to the alpha. He whimpers at the stinging in his scalp and renews his squirming to free himself but Govart holds strong.

“I can bite him right here,” Govart growls, breath ghosting across Kallias’s neck. He slams his eyes shut and bites his lip against the bile the splashes up his throat. “I can mark him and Erasmus every night. Keep them both in a trance, locked away in my rooms until you leave.” 

Torveld snarls and takes a step forward but freezes when Govart jerks Kallias against him and twists his hand harder in Kalllias’s hair. The omega cries out at the pain of it, sure the brute has ripped strands from his scalp.

With the helpless cry it is as if the entire tavern holds its breath, waiting to see which alpha will make the next move. The sound of wood scraping against stone cuts through the silence. Prince Laurent rises from his chair, steps between the two alphas with the effortless grace of royalty, and presents his back to Govart. The alpha growls and Torveld echoes it, eyes never leaving Govart and Kallias even as Laurent gestures for him to look at something.

“Sorry to interrupt what is surely important alpha posturing.” Kallias chokes. If he wasn’t currently trapped between Govart’s sharp teeth and Torveld’s sharper sword, he would probably snicker at his prince’s blasé interruption. Govart’s nose brushing up the length of his neck chills the laughter and replaces it with fear instead.

“Torveld, can you read these lines for me? I can’t seem to make sense of them.”

“Not now, Laurent,” Torveld snarls. His eyes flash with rage as he watches Govart tease along Kallias’s neck.

Laurent shoves the paper in his face, obstructing his view of Kallias and Govart, finger in the middle of the page. Torveld shoves his hand away violently, a move only Torveld or Auguste could make without Jord unsheathing his sword, but Laurent only clicks his tongue in annoyance and pushes the paper in his face again.

“Read,” he says, tone dangerously even.

“ _For the hand of thy omega, I challenge thee.  
The best of three shall claim the victory   
and pluck the spoils from thy company._”

Laurent turns to face Govart. “Hear that?” Laurent goads. “Prince Torveld thinks he can best you in a tournament. Do you accept his challenge?” 

Kallias has a second to realize that’s not entirely what Torveld said, but Govart is an alpha with a simple mind.

Govart scoffs. “I’d be happy to smash the _prince’s_ ,” he spits the word, “face into the dirt.”

“Excellent.” Laurent smiles, sharp. 

Behind him, Jord plops into his seat with a loud sigh. “Now I know why you insisted on this tavern,” he mutters into his ale before taking a hearty swig.

Laurent ignores him and extends the papers in his hand to Govart. “You’ll have to unhand Kallias now. He is considered a prize of the tournament and cannot be touched by either challenger. Unless, you wish to forfeit, of course.”

“What?” Govart snarls and grips Kallias’s arms tight enough to bruise. Tears burn at Kallias’s eyes, but he swallows them down. He won’t cry. Not here and not for Govart.

“Come now,” Laurent says as if talking to a small child. “It’s all written here and you’ve already accepted the challenge.”

“What challenge?”

“The tournament for Kallias and Erasmus.”

Govart snatches the papers with one hand, the other still keeping a tight grip on Kallias’s arm to prevent him from fleeing to Torveld’s side. Laurent explains aloud for the benefit of the crowd, even as Govart’s eyes race down the page.

The challenge is an ancient Veretian custom, most popular in Delfeur and almost lost to history when it became Delpha under Akielos. An alpha can challenge another for rights to an already claimed omega. The tournament takes place over the course of three days and consists of wrestling, archery, and finally combat with weapons chosen by the challenged alpha. Neither alpha is allowed to touch the omega prizes and are only permitted short, supervised visits after a round is won in order to prevent cheating or premature mating. 

“And if I refuse?” Govart growls, shoving the papers into Kallias’s arms. The omega fumbles not to drop them.

“You’ve already accepted the challenge,” Laurent says. “To refuse now is to forfeit.”

“What do I get out of this tournament? To keep what is already mine?” Govart sneers, lip upturned in disgust.

“If I lose, you get two omegas of mine,” Torveld says. “Since I don’t have a harem, you have your choice of any omega in all my land.” Kallias isn’t sure if that is how the tournament is supposed to go, but Laurent nods along as if that logic makes perfect sense to him. Govart chuckles into Kallias’s ear and his hot breath makes the hair on Kallias’s nape stand on end.

“Good. I hear Patran omegas cry when they’re knotted.” Govart smirks and shoves Kallias from him. The omega stumbles forward, papers falling to the ground, and would crash into the table if not for Laurent’s steadying grip on his shoulders. Govart spits on the ground at Torveld’s feet and stalks out of the tavern without looking back.

The energy of the fight dissipates all at once and leaves Kallias vulnerable to a wave of terror and despair so thick it chokes him. His chest heaves and his vision swims as he tries to calm the torrent of emotions that claw at him. Govart almost bit him, almost mated him in front of the entire tavern, and he was helpless as he squirmed and struggled against that solid lug.

Torveld’s concerned face wavers in front of him and there’s a weight on his shoulders he doesn’t understand.

“Deep breaths, Kallias. Do not faint now.” He takes gulping gasps of air and slowly fills his lungs with soothing rain instead of the stench of angry, fighting alphas from before. 

“There,” Torveld breathes when his panting evens out. Gentle fingers brush over his forehead to sweep the hair from his eyes, while one hand still clasps his bare shoulder. He wishes to burrow into Torveld’s chest and goes to do so, but Laurent lays a hand on Torveld’s forearm, making both alpha and omega glance at him.

“If you touch him, you forfeit,” he says, voice tinged with regret.

“Govart just manhandled him, surely I can have a few minutes to comfort him.”

Laurent frowns but overtly turns his back to address Jord, granting them precious seconds more. Torveld wraps his arms around Kallias’s waist and pulls the omega against him, the tight hold a blessed comfort compared to being shoved into Govart’s bulk the same way only moments ago.

“I was so scared,” Kallias whispers into his chest and clutches at Torveld’s tunic.

Torveld hushes him and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Me too,” he murmurs into Kallias’s hair. They embrace for a few moments as Laurent and Jord speak quietly, noise lost beneath the hum of the tavern patrons returning to their own drinks and conversations.

When Laurent turns around, they part, standing with only a sliver of space between their arms. Kallias wishes to brush against Torveld again but he won’t let the alpha lose the tournament so easily, not when both his and Erasmus’s fates are at stake.

“Jord will escort Kallias and Erasmus to their chambers and will guard them for the duration of the tournament. You are not allowed to seek them out and I suggest you prepare for the tournament yourself.”

Torveld’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “What will you do?”

“I will inform Auguste and begin my own preparations.” He smiles a teasing half-smile at Torveld. “Besides, what is a tournament without festivities and a cheering crowd?”

“Is this to be my celebratory send-off?” Laurent’s smile widens to a smirk and that is answer enough for Torveld to frown.

“I’d prefer a hunt and a feast,” he quips.

“But a hunt won’t win you two pretty omegas,” Kallias teases. His smiles up at his alpha, hope making his body feel lighter than it has over the past few weeks. He knows in the coming days he’ll be worried. But for this moment, all he can imagine is the bright possibilities ahead if Torveld wins.

“There is that.” Torveld grins, lopsided and so full of affection it makes Kallias’s heart pound.


	18. Chapter 18

Growing up in Akielos means spending as much time swimming in the ocean as one does walking on dry land. Erasmus can remember days spent with Kallias on the white beaches, splashing in the knee-deep water before they were brave enough to join the older children flopping around at the break. They were so young the day Kallias charged into the waves, determined to swim further than any child ever had before. And Erasmus, like always, followed his friend’s lead without question. He remembers chopping at the water with clumsy hands and uncoordinated feet, proud to keep his face above the surface when his toes could no longer brush the sand. He remembers someone shouting, then a powerful wave crashing over his head. He tumbled and tumbled and struggled against the force, sucking in water when his lungs burned for air. He remembers opening his eyes to find the surface and the world wavering around him like looking through a warped glass.

The world appears the same now, though he is completely dry, and his head is definitively above water. His neck itches where he knows Govart’s teeth sunk into the skin during his heat, but it would take too much energy to move his hand to alleviate the feeling. He has a thought that touching the wound would probably be a bad idea anyway, but his mind cannot grasp onto that idea for more than a moment before the thought flits away. Everything appears slow and his body feels heavy as if he were trying to wade through a muddy swamp with heavy armor on. At least, he imagines that’s what that feels like.

Kallias’s face swims in front of his vision and he blinks, trying to bring his friend’s face into focus. How long has Kallias been looking at him?

“Eras, are you alright?” His voice sounds like Erasmus is underwater and they’re playing that childhood game where they try to guess what the other is saying above the surface. He aches to say something, but it’s like his body and mind cannot coordinate so he nods his head instead, a slow and deliberate movement.

Kallias smiles and it is a farce of his typical wide grin, worry making the corners twitch down. Erasmus isn’t sure if the worry is because of his state or the first round of the tournament set to start soon, but he would wager it’s both. 

Gentle fingers tuck hair behind his ear and Kallias sighs. “Prince Laurent says this feeling will wear off in another day or two. I wish it would go away now.”

“Me too,” Erasmus whispers. It takes more energy to speak today than yesterday and he can only hope that is because his body is in the deepest throes of fighting off the mark on his neck. Kallias had told him earlier that morning that the bite looked angrier than the day before. It was the last thing he said in the quiet privacy of their rooms, before they were thrown into preparations.

The morning was a frenzy of movement Erasmus struggled to wrap his lethargic mind around, not to mention physically keep up with. Before sunrise, servants roused the pair of omegas to ready them for the coming tournament. They were scrubbed, brushed, oiled, and dressed, each adorned in bright baubles meant for pets that would surely appeal to the Veretian crowd and make them both appear as worthy prizes. Erasmus had borne it all through a haze, unused to being pampered so but too numb to do anything but allow it.

A loud cheer sounds from the crowd around him, muffled as though his ears are stuffed with cotton, and Erasmus blinks out of his memory and into the present. He and Kallias kneel upon ornate, silk pillows in a raised box below the one that seats King Auguste and Prince Laurent. The tournament stands are filled to bursting and the crowd waves handkerchiefs of yellow or blue in support of their man. His vision blurs and Erasmus has to look down at his knees to give his sight a break from the writhing mass of color that assaults him. On his lap, he sees Kallias’s hand clasped in his own and studies the contrasting tint of their skin until another cheer goes up around him.

He blinks up to see Torveld enter the ring and his gaze narrows to his alpha, everything on the side blurring together until Torveld is all he can see. He watches in silence as the man waves to the crowd, then strips of his fine, yellow tunic to be oiled by servants that wait nearby. Kallias growls next to him and normally Erasmus would tease him, but his stupor makes him indifferent to the display of Torveld clothed only in his undergarments to protect his modesty. The crowd is anything but indifferent and Torveld and Govart both are gifted with thrown flowers and shouted compliments, the usually subtle Veretians emboldened by the anonymity of such a large group.

Kallias squeezes his hand and Erasmus refocuses his gaze to where Torveld kneels in the center of the ring, arms clasped around Govart with a red cloth thrown over their heads. He realizes for a brief moment of clarity that Govart is bigger than Torveld, a solid wall of bulk compared to Torveld’s own thick muscles. Fear grips him but dissipates in an instant, replaced by the lethargic detachment of before. 

The red handkerchief raises from their heads, muscles bulge under skin, and the slap of their collision can be heard even over the din of the crowd. Erasmus’s eyes stray up to the blue sky and trace the fluffy, white clouds that drift overhead. He should watch the match, but he can’t seem to make his eyes move from the peaceful sky. Kallias gasps beside him and his gaze shifts to his friend’s face. He watches the emotions flick across Kallias’s expression: fear, hope, fear again, and despair. The crowd roars. Erasmus looks finally to see Torveld on his back, pinned by Govart. He wants to care, knows he should, aches to cry out or respond in some way. But he can only blink as Govart is clothed and lead by a servant to their box.

Kallias’s hand grips his fingers hard as the alpha draws near, smile predatory. 

“It seems your prince isn’t as strong as he thinks,” Govart sneers. He reaches his hand out and Erasmus is too slow to avoid the press of dirty fingers over his neck where the mating mark lies. The mark throbs and Kallias slaps Govart’s hand away, noise a whip crack so close to Erasmus’s ear. He flinches back and clutches Kallias’s hand tight.

“You’ll pay for that when I get you back,” Govart snarls. 

“Then it is fortunate I will never be yours again,” Kallias snaps back, face a twist of anger that hides the tremble Erasmus can feel course through his body. For a second, Erasmus fears Govart will reach over the wooden barrier and hurt Kallias but a throat clears somewhere behind him. Govart glares at the creator of the noise and stalks away, rage clear in the clench of his fists.

It is only midday at the conclusion of the wrestling match. While the crowd stays to celebrate and lunch on the open fields, Jord escorts the omegas back to their room where Erasmus gives into the daze and finds peace in sleep.

***  
The first thing Erasmus is aware of is the familiar press of thin arms and legs haphazardly tangled with his own. The second is the gnawing hunger of his stomach. He groans, and blinks open his eyes to see Kallias’s face, still lax with sleep and merely a foot away on his own pillow. His vision is clear for the first time in three days, the last day of his heat spent in the stupor of Govart’s bite. He wants to celebrate, to shake Kallias awake and dance around the room or something, but his stomach aches with a hunger he hasn’t felt since they first traveled to Vere. He pulls himself out of Kallias’s grip easily, knows the other omega could sleep through almost anything, and crosses the room to a small cupboard by the door. They don’t keep much in way of food, too worried about attracting rats, but there is a small bowl filled with spiced nuts from the sole Akielon peddler willing to travel all the way to Arles once a year. They were supposed to share the nuts, to savor them over time, but Erasmus cannot stop himself from shoving an entire handful into his mouth.

There’s a soft groan from the bed and Erasmus looks up to see Kallias stretching into wakefulness, hand patting blindly across the sheets in search of him. He clambers onto the bed and sits cross-legged in the warm spot he slept in moments ago, bowl cradled in his lap. Kallias finds him, hums in his sleep, and plasters his face against Erasmus’s thigh, arm thrown over his hips. He seems to realize their position in a moment and blinks up in surprise.

“You’re awake,” he breathes. Erasmus nods and smiles at his friend. “Are those nuts?”

“I’m so hungry, Kallias. My belly feels like it’s twisted around.”

Kallias seems content with the answer and snuggles further into the bedding and Erasmus, probably to catch a few minutes more of sleep. The next second, his eyes snap open and he pushes himself up to face the blonde.

“Are you alright? How are you feeling? Does your bite hurt?” The questions come in a quick volley one after the other Erasmus has no time to answer. Hands grip his face and turn it this way and that so Kallias can look at his neck and then his eyes.

“I’m fine.” Erasmus giggles and pushes his hands away. “Just really hungry.”

Kallias launches at Erasmus and wraps him in his arms. “Of course, you’re hungry,” he mutters into blonde hair as Erasmus wraps his own arms around Kallias’s shoulders, bowl abandoned to his lap. “You’ve been sleeping since noon yesterday and you barely ate breakfast.”

They stay like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other’s arms and breathing in familiar scents. Kallias’s head drops to Erasmus’s shoulder with a thud. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, voice choked with emotion. “It’s all my fault.”

Erasmus hushes him and buries one hand into the hair at the nape of Kallias’s neck. He scratches there lightly and whatever tension filled Kallias melts away. “I’m not mad at you. You kept Torveld and I from doing something foolish. We wouldn’t have been able to resist marking each other.”

“But Govart marked you when you didn’t want it.”

Erasmus sighs and tightens his arms around Kallias’s shaking waist. “That’s true. But that’s not your fault.”

Kallias pulls back and searches Erasmus’s face, his own expression incredulous. “How are you just okay with everything? I basically delivered you onto the knot of a monster.”

Erasmus winces at the visual and Kallias drops his head into his hands. “Oh Kallias,” the blonde breathes and rubs a hand over his shoulder and upper arm. “My plan was to go to Govart originally. He was kind and my heat was normal.” He squeezes Kallias’s shoulder until the other omega looks up at him, eyes full of regret and sorrow. “He only bit me when it was obvious my heat was wearing off because he got desperate to keep me.”

Kallias’s face is a mixture of relief and despair. “I was so worried I lost you.”

“Well, you still might if I don’t eat something soon,” Erasmus quips with a smile. Kallias goes to move from the bed, but Erasmus grips his shoulder and pulls him back. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong.” They look at each other for a moment and Erasmus feels like everything will be alright for the first time since his heat. 

“How much do you remember?” Kallias asks.

“The past few days are rather hazy. It’s like I dreamed them. Can you explain this tournament to me again?”

“I’ll explain everything while you eat.” Kallias smiles and squeezes Erasmus’s fingers on his shoulder. Erasmus hums at the idea and lets his friend go. 

When Kallias is about to leave, Erasmus calls out to him once more. “Oh, and you’ll have to tell me about how you and Torveld came to be.”

Kallias looks back, sheepish, but Erasmus smiles until his cheeks hurt, hoping to convey how pleased he is at the idea. 

Kallias leaves to seek out the kitchens and Erasmus is left alone with his thoughts and his bowl of nuts. He eats half of the bowl’s contents, determined to leave the other half for Kallias, although he’s sure given the circumstances that Kallias would not mind if he ate the whole treat, even if they only get to enjoy it once a year. His mind is blank as he watches the room around him lighten in tiny increments while waiting. It’s like the stupor is gone from his vision and body, but his mind is tired from the days before. He tries to parse out his memories but doesn’t get very far until Kallias returns with a giant sack in his arms.

“Is that all for us?” Erasmus asks.

“And Captain Jord. He’s been guarding us for two days so far.”

A few moments later, the omegas face one another over a spread of food. Erasmus eats and eats, stopping only to drink water between bites of food until he’s consumed at least two meals worth of bread and salted meats. As they eat, Kallias explains everything from the cause of Erasmus’s trance, to the tournament, and finally to his and Torveld’s budding courtship. 

“You truly don’t mind?” Kallias asks for what has to be the third time.

Erasmus shakes his head and swallows. “I love Torveld and I love you. Why wouldn’t I want to spend the rest of my life at both your sides?”

Kallias looks down at his hands and a strange look passes over his face that Erasmus can’t interpret. Before Erasmus can question his friend, the door to their rooms open to reveal a tired, but alert looking Jord.

“It’s time to escort you to the baths,” Jord announces.

Kallias grumbles a protest but relents when Erasmus folds their hands together and tugs the other omega from the bed. The brunette keeps their hands gripped together as they walk and only lets go when the head servant makes them part to bathe. Like the morning before, they are both cleaned and primped and made up with kohl around their eyes and expensive jewelry around their necks and wrists. Kallias looks miserable through the whole thing, smiling only when Erasmus grants him an encouraging smile. Erasmus, for his part, is quiet and submits to the entire process except to request gold jewelry for them both. If the head servant realizes that’s Torveld’s color, he doesn’t comment. 

“We look strange,” Kallias mutters when the servants are cleaning up and the omegas are given a moment to look in a small glass. 

“I wonder if Torveld likes his lovers like this,” Erasmus says lightly. He turns his head so he can see the state of his mark, still bruised but yellowing at the edges.

Kallias snorts. “Eras, he fell for you when you were serving him wine in Veretian servant’s clothes.”

“And for you when you won his silly card game.”

“It’s not silly!” Kallias blushes bright when he realizes what Erasmus actually said and Erasmus giggles. He huffs. “Well, I guess we know for sure then he doesn’t like omega dolls.”

Erasmus hums, bumps Kallias hip with his own, and intertwines their fingers together. Kallias opens his mouth to say something, but a servant interrupts him to lead them out of the room to where Jord is waiting.

“What were you going to say?” Erasmus whispers, tugging a little at Kallias’s arm.

“It’s nothing.”

Erasmus wants to press but Kallias’s expression is a strange storm of emotions and he knows that often the other man needs time to sort out his own thoughts and will voice them once he has. He squeezes Kallias’s hand and launches into a discussion about the tournament so far.

It’s harder today than yesterday to wait for the round to begin. Before, Erasmus was barely aware of his surroundings, vision tunneled to almost a pinpoint since his mind could not process so much information and even then he was overwhelmed by the noise and colors around him. Now, Erasmus is aware of everything his senses blocked yesterday. The stands are mostly empty this early. The grounds have already been cleared of the wrestling ring marks and replaced with large hay bales with painted targets. The bales are set at varying distances from the table that holds a bow and three arrows per challenger. Erasmus knows the round will be decided by the amount of points earned, which is all depended on the distance of the target and which ring the arrow sticks in.

They are led to a tent to await the start of the round. Time passes much slower now that Erasmus is aware of it and he tries to distract himself by chatting with Kallias and even Jord, who is hesitant at first to respond in case the conversation distracts him from his duty. The noise outside the tent gets louder and an excited energy seeps from the crowd into the tent until Erasmus is bouncing his leg, anxious to be able to see Torveld properly for the first time since they were in the storage room together.

They are finally paraded out behind a servant tossing petals into the air and take their place in the wooden box beneath the one for royalty. King Auguste and Prince Laurent already sit upon two thrones behind them, both dressed in clothes befitting Veretian royalty. It seems a little silly to Erasmus that they would go so far for a tournament between a Veretian guard and another country’s dignitary but when he looks out at the crowd, he can understand why Laurent would take advantage of any reason to supply his people with entertainment.

“You seem to be awake today, Erasmus,” Laurent comments lightly. 

Erasmus turns and bows his head to address his prince. “Yes, my liege. I hear that I have you to thank for keeping Prince Torveld from slaying Govart and committing us to the Regent.”

Whatever Laurent replies is lost beneath the wild cheer of the crowd. Erasmus turns back to see Govart swagger across the field, confident smirk plastered on his face. When Torveld enters, the crowd is not so loud, not after his defeat the day before, but Kallias and Erasmus both yell for their alpha and toss yellow petals onto the ground below. 

Both challengers stand before the box as Auguste addresses the crowd and wishes them luck. Erasmus doesn’t hear a word of it. His eyes lock with Torveld’s and the prince’s smile widens until Erasmus is sure it hurts his cheeks. He wants to say something, to assure Torveld he is alright or to wish him luck, but Auguste calls for the round to start and both competitors are led away. It may just be his imagination, but he swears Torveld’s gait is more buoyant.

“Do you think he’ll win?” Kallias asks.

“Of course, he will,” Erasmus responds with confidence, betrayed by the way he grips Kallias’s fingers tight in his own. Torveld must win this round or else… Erasmus will not think on it. Torveld promised them he would free them and Torveld is too honorable to fail.


	19. Chapter 19

The crowd roars when Govart steps up to the line drawn in the dirt, bow in hand and cocky smile on his lips. Kallias almost doesn’t want to watch, terrified that Govart will strike three perfect bullseyes and he and Erasmus will be stuck with him in Vere for the rest of their lives. He doesn’t know much about Patras other than what Torveld has told him and Erasmus has read to them, but he knows that he is willing to go anywhere with that alpha if it means being free from Govart at last. All he has ever wanted is to spend his life with Erasmus and recently that desire has spread to include Torveld as well, at first as a friend, but now, hopefully, as a lover.

The twang of the bow reaches his ears over the momentarily quiet crowd before a cry goes up in the stands. Kallias looks up to find the arrow snug in the center of a target about halfway down the field, earning Govart a comfortable thirty points. Erasmus’s hand squeezes his own in worry and he rubs the blonde’s arm to comfort him.

“Is Torveld any good at archery?” Erasmus asks as Govart strikes the center of a forty-point target.

Kallias thinks back on their conversations in the library. Torveld told them about growing up in the castle of Bazal, trying to keep his rather wild, older brother in line but mostly taking part in his schemes. As a young man he spent a lot of time hunting, but Kallias knows he preferred large game and spear throwing.

“He probably used a bow while hunting,” he says, just to ease Erasmus’s anxiety. With his third arrow, Govart hits the center of another forty-point target. The crowd writhes with blue cloths and flags, screaming praises at the favored champion and throwing flowers into the air. Govart hands the bow to Torveld, ducks to say something no one else can hear over the din of the crowd, and slams his shoulder into Torveld’s as he walks away.

“That’s not fair!” Erasmus exclaims. Kallias aches to agree but knows it will be fruitless. The crowd wants to see the competition continue and Torveld would be considered weak if he called for a pause because of a bumped shoulder.

Torveld steps up to the line in the dirt and even this far away, Kallias can see the worry on his expression.

“Look at his face, brother,” King Auguste says from behind him. “You bet your coin on the wrong man.”

“Perhaps,” Laurent responds coolly. Kallias glances back to see Laurent leaning forward in his chair, elbows on his knees and gaze intent on the match below. If Laurent is worried, then Kallias would be stupid not to be terrified. He grips Erasmus’s hand tight and pulls it into his lap to clasp in both of his hands. _At least we’ll have each other_ , he thinks as Torveld raises the bow and pulls the string back.

A hush falls over the crowd, anticipation thick. The string twangs and Kallias loses sight of the yellow feathered arrow in its speedy arch. The crowd erupts into ecstatic screams. There in the dead center of the fifty-point target stands Torveld’s arrow. The prince doesn’t wait for the noise to die down again. He releases the other two arrows in quick succession, striking the center of the fifty-point target and the ring just outside for forty-five points. 

He tosses the bow onto the table and marches towards the box where Kallias and Erasmus cheer along with the crowd, not even waiting for the servant to lead him or for Auguste to officially call the end to the round. 

“It seems you forgot how often Prince Torveld and I went shooting pheasant,” Kallias hears Laurent say behind him, then the distinct clink of coins being passed from one brother to the other. A giddy laugh bubbles up his throat and he hugs Erasmus to him, barely able to contain his joy. Erasmus grips him back hard, shaking with his own laughter.

Torveld finally reaches them across the dirt field and Erasmus and Kallias both beam at him. Kallias can feel through their brushing arms how the blonde practically vibrates with his excitement of seeing the prince. Torveld smiles at Kallias, and his smile brightens as he takes in Erasmus, eyes clear of fog. 

“Are you feeling better?” he asks, concern clear in his tone. Kallias knows that if he could, he would reach out and cup Erasmus’s cheek and bestow a kiss on those sweet lips. Then he would turn to Kallias and do the same.

Erasmus nods, but stares down at his own hands clasped now in his lap. “I’m sorry for how I spoke to you.”

“Think nothing of it. I’m just happy you’re alright.”

Erasmus reaches out to touch his shoulder and probably pull him into a kiss but the prince takes a graceful step back so he is just out of arm’s reach. Erasmus’s face falls but Torveld speaks before he can apologize or question the alpha. “I’m sorry, my love. I wish I could take you in my arms, but to do so is to forfeit.”

Erasmus nods, but looks miserable, watching his fingers as they fiddle with the hem of his tunic, a sign of his troubled thoughts. Kallias yearns to make his friend feel better, but he’s not sure how. He looks up at Torveld to find the alpha smirking at him. He has a moment to draw his eyebrows together and cock his head at the prince, but Torveld ignores the silent question.

“Since I’m unable to touch you, little omega, you’ll have to settle for Kallias’s kisses instead.” Erasmus’s head snaps up at the suggestion, eyes wide. Kallias can feel his own heart thud against his chest and he’s not sure if it’s fear or excitement that makes it do so. They kissed one time, bold with wine, and the next day Erasmus said they should not do so again, that omegas could not be together in Vere. Kallias respected the request, even as his heart broke into pieces, but could not stop his infatuation for his friend from growing.

When Torveld does nothing but nod in Kallias’s direction, Erasmus turns to him, eyes full of questions that Kallias doesn’t even know how to answer.

“Do you want that?” Erasmus asks, voice soft, hesitant. Kallias’s mind screams approval, even as his chest fills with the ache of rejection, familiar to him after years of waking with Erasmus in his arms, their scents mingled around them, but without each other’s mark on their necks.

He wrings his hands together on his lap and ducks his head. Torveld is cruel, he thinks, to suggest such a thing knowing Erasmus is plagued by the Veretian mindset. Perhaps it is his punishment for hurting Erasmus and now Erasmus will reject him and Torveld will end their barely begun courtship, take Erasmus to Patras, and leave Kallias behind, free for any alpha to claim.

A pale hand covers his hands and he tilts his head up to look just over Erasmus’s shoulder. He won’t make eye contact. He doesn’t want Eras to see his warring thoughts or the truth of his feelings.

But Erasmus isn’t looking for answers anymore. He leans forward and presses his mouth to Kallias’s, hesitant and gentle. A flame fills Kallias’s body, starting at his heart and blooming outwards until even his toes tingle. He presses their lips together a little more incessantly and licks into Erasmus’s mouth. Erasmus jerks and lets out a soft, breathy gasp that alights Kallias with desire. He surges forward so that Erasmus’s back arches and their chests rub together. Erasmus trembles against him and his hands grip at Kallias’s shoulders like he needs something to hold onto to keep him from floating away.

A quiet groan pricks at Kallias’s ears from next to them and they break apart, though Kallias refuses to move his hands from the curve of Erasmus’s hips. Erasmus’s eyes search his face, cheeks dusted pink and lips slightly swollen already. Kallias yearns to kiss him again, but that little line on his forehead means he’s thinking about something and Kallias wouldn’t want to push Erasmus too far.

“I think he’s realized it now, don’t you Kallias?” Torveld asks. Kallias nods, dazed.

“You’ll allow us this?” Kallias turns to look at the alpha. 

“I will grant you your freedom. You can allow yourself anything you want with or without me.” Torveld smiles and it’s soft with affection for both omegas.

“You’re foolish if you think either of us would want this without you as well.” 

Torveld laughs and it sounds as joyous as Kallias feels. To mate with an alpha and Erasmus was one of Kallias’s wilder dreams when he was first plagued with heat and now it seems attainable. He’s not ready to mate with Torveld just yet, but after the tournament they will have all the time and freedom with which to court.

He ducks down to kiss Erasmus again, too full of happiness to hesitate, but hands on his chest stop him. He steels himself for another rejection, although he’s sure this time it will break his heart for good.

“What if someone sees?” Erasmus asks, chewing on his bottom lip. Relief courses through Kallias at the thought that Erasmus is stopping him because of Veretian conservatism regarding omegas together instead of his own disgust at their coupling.

Torveld looks around at the already drunken crowd, the backs of people leaving the stands to enter the grounds where the real celebrating takes place, and the brothers conversing above, trying to give the trio privacy even though they must be supervised according to the custom. 

“I’m the only one watching,” he says, putting enough suggestion in his tone to make Erasmus flush a little. 

Their lips meet, bolder than before. Kallias wastes no time deepening the kiss, licking into Erasmus’s mouth again and letting their tongues twine together on the brink of their lips. He sighs his pleasure and delights in every gasp and the tremble of Erasmus’s body against his own. Erasmus’s arms wrap around his shoulders to pull him in further and their torsos press flush together. He wishes they were back in the privacy of their rooms so he could remove Erasmus’s clothing and touch him like he’s dreamed of for years. He’ll settle for moving his hands up Erasmus’s chest and brushing his thumbs over small nipples through the cotton of his clothing. Erasmus moans and shivers against him and Kallias does it again just to hear that sweet sound.

The alpha groans in appreciation and the musk of alpha arousal mingles with the sweet scent of honey and jasmine that surrounds them. The omegas part, both gasping for air and turn to look at Torveld.

His eyes are dark with lust and his knuckles are white where they grip the banister to keep from reaching out. Kallias smirks at him and wraps Erasmus in a hug and presses their cheeks together. Kallias knows a thing or two about beauty and pressed together just so, he and Erasmus create the perfect image for their alpha: contrasting skin, pretty blushes, and panting chests, made all the better by the sweet smell of their mixed arousal. Torveld growls softly and the wood creaks beneath his hand.

“I hope that tonight you two can find pleasure in one another’s arms,” he says. “I regret only that I will not be there to witness it.”

“We can wait for you,” Erasmus offers. 

“I believe Kallias has done enough waiting.”

Kallias chews his lip and refuses to look at the other omega when Erasmus turns to study his profile. He will not pressure Erasmus in anyway, especially if the blonde has reservations about them both being omegas. He’d rather give Eras time to come to terms without his influence, even if that means waiting longer than he already has. A familiar hand finds his, intertwines their fingers together, and squeezes gently until he glances over.

“I’m done waiting,” Erasmus says, eyes a little unsure but smile as sweet and bright as his disposition. Kallias warms with love for him and squeezes his hand back.

“Me too,” he breathes.


	20. Chapter 20

A servant leads Erasmus and Kallias away from the revelries on the grounds and back to their rooms. Govart and Torveld are expected to mingle during the celebrations after every round so the prizes must be ushered away. Apparently in the early years of the tradition, many alpha challengers would steal alone time with the omega or steal the omega in general during the festivities. It became such a problem that the omegas were locked in cages to await the end of the tournament. 

Kallias is just glad that Laurent has done away with such archaic practices. They’re still confined to a guarded room, but at least there are no bars and Jord is kind enough to let them go to the kitchens as long as they are accompanied by a guard. 

It is a testament to his own strength, Kallias thinks, that he does not pounce on Erasmus the moment their bedroom door closes behind them. In fact, they pass the day together almost like any other. They read, play cards, and share meals and laughter. Everything the same as before, except every so often one of them initiates a gentle kiss or caress. Kallias yearns for those moments, Erasmus’s lips moving against his own, but he doesn’t hold the other omega in place or push their actions further than momentary kisses. As the day wears on, the kisses become promises of something more.

It isn’t until they are readying for bed that the slightly charged air turns heavy with lust. Erasmus seems to be all too aware of Kallias’s movements as he begins to braid his long hair for sleep and turns to look at Kallias with expectation. 

“Well?” he asks.

Kallias sighs. He cups Erasmus’s cheek and presses a kiss to the blonde’s forehead. “We do not have to do anything that you do not want to. I have waited years and my affection for you has not dimmed. I can wait until you are ready.”

Erasmus ducks his head and chews his lip as he does when he is thinking too hard about something. 

“I want to, Kallias, truly,” he says, and his voice is strong in his conviction.

“And yet?”

“I’m nervous.”

“Me too.” Kallias smiles gently. “Let me braid your hair?”

They arrange themselves on the bed in a position they’ve taken a hundred times. Erasmus sits before Kallias on the pallet and Kallias sits behind with his legs on either side of Erasmus’s hips. Kallias nudges forward a little more than necessary so Erasmus’s backside fits in the curve of his lap. His fingers brush through Erasmus’s hair and he works out any knots as gently as he can before he parts the hair in three even sections. Erasmus sighs and his head tilts back a little. It feels erotic somehow to braid Erasmus’s hair in a way that it never has before. Kallias has always loved brushing and braiding the soft, almost gold locks, but there’s something different about doing it tonight. He presses a kiss to Erasmus skin, right next to the nape of his neck and the other omega shivers.

“I love you,” he breathes.

“I love you too, Kallias.”

The words make his heart pound so hard he expects it to leap out of his chest and dance around the room. He finishes the braid and ties it expertly with the ribbon Erasmus hands him before kissing along the curve of the blonde’s bare shoulder. 

“Don’t be nervous,” he says. “We’ll do this together like we have done everything since we were children.”

Erasmus turns in the curve of his lap and smiles at him. “Will you lay down with me?”

It would take a stronger man than Kallias to refuse such a sweet request. A stronger and more foolish man. He nods, and they lay side by side on the bed, a few scant inches of space between them on the pallet, their heads resting upon the same pillow. 

They don’t touch, at first, both content to study each other. Kallias’s eyes trace Erasmus’s angelic face: the high cheekbones, his small nose, and the bow of his pink lips. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he breathes. Erasmus smiles and wrinkles his nose in the endearing way he does sometimes when Kallias embarrasses him. Kallias presses a kiss to the tip of his nose, then ducks down to kiss his lips. He means for it to be a peck, but Erasmus pushes forward across the pillow to seal their lips together in a passionate kiss. Kallias hums and finally touches the other omega, hand resting on his waist and moving no further.

They kiss for long moments, tongues dancing together, and breath mingling in soft gasps and even one whimper from Erasmus when Kallias nibbles a little at his bottom lip. Kallias could kiss him for hours longer but Erasmus pulls back.

“You’re so far away,” he says with a pout to match the little whine in his voice. Kallias chuckles and scoots closer so that their bodies press together and their legs tangle.

“Better?” 

Erasmus nods and kisses him again, more forceful than before. 

They’re both still clothed in loose sleeping tunics, worn over the years so the fabric is feather soft to the touch. Kallias rubs his hand over the thin fabric, fingers tracing the dip of Erasmus’s waist and curve of his hip but venturing no further. He can feel Erasmus’s length hardening beneath the skirt of his chiton and he breathes in the scent of honey, another sign of the blonde’s arousal. He smiles into their kiss, a little smug that kissing is all it takes to get his omega to react that way.

Erasmus breaks their kiss again, probably to question his grin, but Kallias cuts him off before he can ask.

“I want to touch you.” He places his hand at the knot on Erasmus’s shoulder to make his meaning clear. Erasmus nods and with one tug the fabric slides off his skin to join the bedding beneath them. Kallias has seen Erasmus nude before, but never like this: blush on his chest and erection rising from the light smattering of curls around it. He’s not fully hard yet, but the head is already shiny and wet. Kallias licks his lips and wishes he could see behind Erasmus’s hips, where he’s sure slick is gathering at his entrance.

Erasmus reciprocates and Kallias is bare in moments. He watches as Erasmus’s honey eyes gaze down his body and then back up to his face. “I’ve seen you nude so many times, but this feels different.”

“It does,” he agrees and places a hand on Erasmus’s hip. The touch to bare skin is a shock and Erasmus shudders. He slides his hand backwards slowly, watching Erasmus for any disapproval but finds only a willingness and even eagerness that he feels as well. His fingertips trace over the split of Erasmus’s buttocks, damp already with his pleasure. 

“Can I?” Erasmus swallows and nods, blush bright on his cheeks. Kallias dips his fingers between those round cheeks and groans at the wet feeling of slick sliding over his fingers. He swirls his fingers over Erasmus’s hole and the other omega gasps and scrambles to grip the blankets below them. He offers his free hand to the blonde and Erasmus intertwines their fingers.

He pushes a single finger inside and watches as Erasmus’s eyes close and his lips part on a sigh. One finger isn’t enough to stretch Erasmus and drive him to peak, but Kallias wants to take their time tonight. He presses that finger in slowly and massages along the sides of Erasmus’s passage, determined to make the blonde relax.

“How does that feel?” he asks in a voice low with heat. 

Honey eyes blink open at him and he has to bite his lip at the sight of pleasure filling his friend’s gaze as he’s imagined for years.

“Good,” Eramus gasps, “but…” 

Kallias stills the movement of his hand long enough for Erasmus to perch his leg over Kallias’s hips. The position spreads his thighs and his backside, giving Kallias more room to please him. 

“Better,” Erasmus says and presses a soft kiss to the cut of Kallias’s jaw. The brunette huffs and kisses him fully on the lips as he starts to move his hand again, finger able to explore deeper with the new angle.

After long moments of Erasmus’s gasps and half-moans against his lips, Kallias adds a second finger. He watches Erasmus’s face as he thrusts his fingers in and out, a slow drag of pressure, and smiles when blonde eyelashes flutter over his pink cheeks. Erasmus’s hips twitch every so often, but he doesn’t push them back to make Kallias go faster. They both seem content to take it slow, to let Kallias’s fingers pump gently with no rush to make Erasmus peak.

Erasmus pants against his lips as they kiss, languid to match the movement of his hand. 

“I could do this for hours,” Kallias whispers and Erasmus lets out a breathy giggle. 

“What if I _ah_ —want to touch you too?”

Kallias groans at the idea and nudges Erasmus’s hip with his cock. “I’d love that.”

The blonde places a hand on Kallias’s wrist, stopping the pumping of his fingers. He furrows his brows, but Erasmus smiles up at him before he can question the other omega. “Let’s move.”

They arrange themselves to lie in the middle of the bed, Kallias’s head towards the door and Erasmus’s towards the wall. They each bend their lowest leg, thighs serving to pillow one another’s head. Erasmus’s idea becomes clear when Kallias finds himself eye level with the other omega’s stiff cock and knows that his own cock is pointing towards Erasmus’s lips. 

“Eras,” he whines, “I won’t last like this. Not with your taste in my mouth and your lips on my staff like I have imagine so many time before.” 

“Well, then I’ll just have keep my mouth on you until you’re ready again.”

A groan punches out of Kallias’s chest and he looks down at Erasmus with wide eyes. “You minx,” he gasps.

Erasmus laughs. “Torveld says the same.”

“Have you done this with him before?” Kallias asks, curious and no hint of jealousy in his tone. 

“We’ve both used our mouths, but never at the same time.”

“To new adventures then,” Kallias says like a toast and licks a long stripe up Erasmus’s cock. Erasmus jerks and moans and Kallias can’t help but chuckle. He sets to task making Erasmus feel good like before, happy to have both hands free to please his lover, even if that means he no longer gets to hold Erasmus’s hand through the tremors of pleasure that wrack his body.

Still, it’s nice to wrap his fingers around that beautiful cock to angle it towards his mouth. Erasmus’s manhood is slender and a good length, proportionate to the rest of his lithe body. The head of his staff is the same soft pink of his lips and already wet. Kallias rubs his lips against that sensitive head, coating them in precum, before licking his own lips and Erasmus clean. He can hear Erasmus whimper below and decides then to stop playing. He wants to feel Erasmus shake a part.

Kallias goes to wrap his lips around Erasmus’s cock but is stopped short when Erasmus pulls his hips forward and guides his cock deep into that sweet mouth without preamble. Kallias groans and his mouth falls slack with pleasure. He has never felt such pressure on his cock. Most alphas are too worried about their own dominance to debase themselves by even giving attention to an omega cock, not to mention sucking on one. 

“Eras,” he breathes and pets over Erasmus’s thigh and hip, wishing he could bury his hands in that golden hair, tug it out of its braid, and thrust his cock further between those lips. 

Erasmus pulls off with a soft popping noise and a swirl of his tongue that makes Kallias’s eyes roll in the back of his head. 

“Have you already forgotten my pleasure, Kallias?” Kallias can hear the pout without having to see it. Erasmus’s hips twitch forward and his cock bumps Kallias’s chin, making the brunette laugh and grasp his staff to angle it properly.

“Sorry, love, your mouth is distracting.” He wraps his lips and fingers around Erasmus’s cock even as he feels the warm, wet pressure on his own cock again. It’s hard to concentrate with shocks and waves of pleasure coursing through his body from his lap, but he doubles his efforts to make Erasmus feel good. Kallias is competitive, apparently even in bed, and he wants to make the other omega come undone first.

His free hand passes over Erasmus’s hip and flank until his fingers slip into warm slick again. He moans around his mouthful, can feel Erasmus’s echo it through the vibration in his cock, and plunges three fingers in without warning. Erasmus yelps but Kallias knows he isn’t hurt because of the way his hips grind back onto those fingers, almost pulling his cock out of Kallias’s mouth. He buries his face in Erasmus’s lap, forcing the cock down his throat so quickly his eyes water, and thrusts his fingers hard against the spot he’s imagined touching for so long. Erasmus jerks and his body doesn’t seem to know whether to push forward or backwards. Kallias takes the decision from him by driving his fingers in harder, forcing Erasmus’s hips forward and his cock to thrust further into his throat. He chokes a little but breathes hard through his nose. Erasmus is smaller than an alpha and alphas are usually more forceful anyway. 

He can feel his cock slip out of Erasmus’s slack mouth, the blonde too focused on the pleasure Kallias is giving him. His fingers grip Kallias’s hips and he can feel nails bite into his skin. He sets a quick, rough rhythm, determined to make Erasmus peak and desperate to drink him down. His fingers pound into that slick hole and drive Erasmus’s hips forward so his cock slips down his open throat. He hums as Erasmus dissolves into moans and whimpers. 

Erasmus’s thigh tenses beneath Kallias’s cheek and that’s all the warning he gets. His hips stutter and warm slick streams over Kallias’s fingers as salt splashes over his tongue. He sees Erasmus through every tremor, sucking at his cock and thrusting his fingers until Erasmus’s hips and legs twitch violently, a sign of overstimulation. He finally pulls away and nuzzles into the soft thigh beneath his cheek, panting to catch his own breath. 

Without warning, and much sooner than Kallias was expecting, soft lips seal over the head of his cock. He grunts, and his hips thrust forward on instinct, but Erasmus stalls his movement with one hand clasping his hip and the other at the base of his length. Erasmus sucks and teases his sensitive head, focusing all the attention of his mouth there as his hand pumps over the rest of his length. It’s maddening and too much pleasure for Kallias to hold himself back. He moans and his hips spasm within moments, releasing right on Erasmus’s tongue.

He shakes afterwards, shocks of pleasure tingling his limbs and spine. His limbs feel loose as Erasmus pulls him up the bed and arranges them both so that they lay together like before, facing each other and sharing a pillow. Kallias pants and cracks open his eyes to see Erasmus looking at him with a small smile

“I love your freckles,” he whispers. His hand cups Kallias’s cheek and his thumb brushes over the ridge of his nose and cheekbone. “They’re so faint you can’t see them, except from this close.”

“Then they’re only for you and Torveld to see.”

Erasmus’s smile brightens and Kallias can’t resist pressing a kiss to those smiling lips.


	21. Chapter 21

The flap of the tent opens without a word from the outside. Torveld doesn’t have to look up from lacing his boots to know who would enter his private tent without permission so he concentrates on tying his laces tight. His father always said ill-fitting boots and armor could defeat the best swordsman.

When he finally uprights, it’s to find Laurent lounging casually in a chair, eating from a bowl of fruits left by the servants for Torveld.

“Please, help yourself,” Torveld mutters.

“You must be nervous. This bowl is full.”

Torveld huffs a laugh as he cinches the laces of his Veretian shirt and ties it with quick fingers. 

“I feel like a green soldier on the eve of my first tournament.” Laurent stays silent and raises his eyebrows for Torveld to continue. “There’s so much at stake.”

Kallias’s and Erasmus’s freedom is first on his mind. They deserve to be their own men, not to belong to or have to answer to anyone. Second is his courtship with the two omegas. He wants the freedom to make them happy, to court them as they both deserve. Erasmus has experienced a little of what Torveld can offer, but Kallias has had barely a taste of Torveld’s charms. 

He ties the laces of one sleeve where it billows from shoulder to elbow to keep it from flapping around and impeding his shield arm. He tries to reach the laces of his sword arm but finds it hard to do so properly. He should have a servant to do the laces, but he sent his servant to fetch the weaponry he would be using in the round, wanting solitude to calm his nerves.

Pale fingers wave his away and he looks at Laurent with wide eyes, surprised the prince would attend anyone in this way. “I can’t let you ruin my hard work at freeing these omegas because your sleeve smacks you in the face when you tie your laces wrong.” He jerks the cords a little too tight but allows them to slacken before he ties it fully.

“Thank you, my friend.”

“Thank me by not losing.”

Torveld smiles, knows that’s probably the closest prickly Laurent will come to wishing him luck that day given his own nerves clear in the tightness of his mouth, and clasps his shoulder. 

The tent flap opens again to the servant juggling a shield and a sword, both heavy for the young man who’s barely grown into his whiskers. Torveld relieves the servant of both items and gives each a cursory inspection. The shield is wooden, round, and small in size, meant for blocking swords with quick movements. The sword is similar to the one that Torveld yields regularly, only the blade is sharp enough to cut cloth and maybe skin, but the point is too dull to stab through a rib cage. The fight is not meant to be to the death, although there is a part of Torveld that yearns to slice open the other alpha’s throat in a violent reenactment of Erasmus’s mark.

The morning proceeds like the two before. Torveld is led by a servant to the arena where the crowd roars and throws flowers. After his easy victory with the bow, Torveld notices more wavering yellow in the stands than the days before. Blue still overruns the crowd, but Torveld cannot blame the audience for cheering for a man of their own country, even if that man is Govart. Besides, there are only two in the crowd who’s cheers matter to the prince and his eyes find them easily enough.

He stands before the raised boxes of nobility and the Veretian court, Govart at his side, as King Auguste addresses the crowd. Torveld should probably listen on the final day, but he knows how these speeches usually go, having delivered a few of them himself in his own country’s tournaments. Instead, he looks to the lowest box, where his two omegas kneel on pillows instead of lounge in chairs like the stuffy nobility around them. Erasmus and Kallias both smile at him, faces and bodies adorned in dark kohl and expensive silks. The scents of jasmine and honey are muted beneath the scent of the crowd and Govart’s sour stench, but Torveld would like to imagine they reach him as one, a sign of their coupling the night before. He won’t be able to tell until later, when he can take them in his arms and see if the other’s scent still lingers on their skin.

A loud cheer rises all around him, snapping Torveld out of his own thoughts. He has a round to win before he can make his thoughts true. He turns to Govart and holds out his hand.

“Good luck, sire,” he says.

“Fuck off,” Govart growls in response and stalks past him towards the center of the dirt arena, leaving his hand hanging unclasped. 

The crowd gasps and some boo at the exchange, but Torveld merely shrugs and follows him. It seems even in Vere thugs are not properly housetrained.

Silence falls over the crowd when the two face each other, all waiting for Auguste’s call to begin. Torveld flips his sword over his wrist to get a feel for the foreign steel as Govart slashes the air in front of him in quick, wide arches. They are matched in reach, but Govart has the advantage of strength and bulk. Torveld will need to rely on his quick feet to win.

The crowd yells, drowning Auguste’s call, and Govart surges forward to meet Torveld head on. Their swords clash and Torveld’s arm vibrates with the strength of it before he pushes Govart away. Govart thrusts his shield and Torveld stumbles back a few paces; better to cede distance than to fall on his backside. The large alpha advances, sword swinging wildly at Torveld and the prince moves nimbly backwards.

“If I wanted to dance, I’d invite Kallias out here,” Govart growls after chasing Torveld around the ring for a few minutes. 

“I’m sure he’d rather dance with someone with a little more stamina,” Torveld quips back, already aware of the way Govart’s chest heaves. He’s spent too much energy swinging his steel and trying to keep up with Torveld’s cat and mouse chase.

Govart seems to come to the same conclusion and plants his feet. “C’mon then.” He waves the tip of his sword to beckon Torveld in. He knows it’s a bad idea all around, but the prince advances anyway, hoping to parry and get behind Govart’s shield with speed before the stockier alpha can react. Govart’s sword falls upon him, quicker than he’s seen the alpha swing before. Torveld has barely enough time to raise his shield. He blocks the swing but pays dearly for it. His entire arm numbs under the blow and there’s a loud cracking noise Torveld doesn’t know the origin of as he rolls away. The sword swings down again but meets only dirt when Torveld springs to his feet.

A swift assessment reveals a large split down the middle of his shield. _Tampered with,_ he thinks, before casting the shield to the side. He rolls his shoulder and flexes his fingers to try and entice feeling back into his arm. There’s tittering in the crowd, the first Torveld has been aware of the noise around them since the match started. He doesn’t have to hear the words to know what they’re saying. He’s severely disadvantaged, facing a larger alpha with a shield while he himself has none. Still, Torveld has been in worse situations on the battlefield against the vicious women of Vask and lived to recount his victories.

He flips his sword from hand to hand, silly showmanship that is sure to anger the alpha before him, and yawns wide. Govart snarls and lunges for Torveld. Their swords meet and lock as they both struggle to push the other one away. Torveld twists his blade down, forcing Govart’s towards the dirt, and slams the hilt up into Govart’s shoulder. He jumps back as Govart brings his sword up and narrowly escapes the slashing blade. 

The gamble pays off. Govart grimaces in pain and can barely hold up the shield to rip it off of his arm. Torveld may not have broken bones like he wanted, but Govart has to take a moment to pop his shoulder back into place. The crowd yells for Torveld to attack, but the prince stands out of Govart’s reach and waits. He won’t win dishonorably, even if Govart would deserve it.

Govart faces him again, sword held aloft with his good arm. His bad arm seems alright, but Torveld knows it’ll be sore for weeks, especially if he continues to use it now.

They clash again and again, steel screaming against steel, until sweat pours from their brows and blood from various cuts and near victories. Govart is a fierce swordsman and Torveld’s muscles protest each time their swords meet, wanting to yield to the other alpha’s superior strength. But Govart is tired, evident in the way he gulps air in loud, open-mouthed breaths. He’s desperate for the end of the match, which will make him more likely to make mistakes. This is a game of stamina and Torveld spent hours as a lad dueling swordsmen twice his size.

Govart darts forward and Torveld raises his sword to meet him. He doesn’t expect Govart to feint and kick a cloud of dirt at him. The dirt sprays into his eyes and he back pedals, trying to rub his eyes clear and blindly dodge whatever Govart has planned. He blinks his eyes open against burning tears and has a second to spring to the side as Govart swings his sword straight down. The wind whistles as the sword comes down right where Torveld stood a moment ago. It smacks into the ground and half of the blade sticks in the dirt with the deadly force of the swing. Govart will be able to rip the blade out in a second, so Torveld must act fast. He barrels straight into the other alpha and slams against his chest. Govart’s weight is already leaning back to pull the sword out so he topples easily, dropping the sword in his surprise. Torveld follows him down and lands with a knee on his chest. It’s not a good position to be in with an alpha who bested him in wrestling two days prior, but Torveld brings his sword to Govart’s neck before the man can flip them.

“Yield or die,” he snarls, and presses the blade down until a thin line of blood seeps around steel.

Govarts growls but Torveld pushes hard enough that blood drips onto the dirt below.

“Yield,” Govarts snarls.

Torveld stumbles away from Govart as two heavily armored guards rush onto the field to ensure the alphas stay separated now that the match is over. One takes Torveld’s sword from his limp hand while the other goes to help Govart find his footing. 

Torveld feels dazed, body exhausted but mind elated with victory. He turns towards the stands, gaze tunneled on the box that holds his omegas. _His, truly his,_ he thinks. The box is empty. Running across the field to meet him are Kallias and Erasmus, chitons billowing behind them in the wind as their legs pump.


	22. Chapter 22

Erasmus’s hand is sore from where he grips Kallias’s, clenching tight every time Torveld gets hurt or Govart appears to have the upper hand. The crowd around them cheer, gasp, and boo with every swing of steel and the noises grate on Erasmus’s mind and make him grind his teeth. He’s so worried about Torveld and about the outcome of the match, he can’t sit still. His leg bounces, he chews his lip, and he squeezes Kallias’s hand until he’s sure both of their fingertips turn blue. When Torveld’s shield breaks, he hides his face in Kallias’s neck, breathing in the relaxing scent of his friend now mingled with hints of his own scent. There are moments he can’t watch, but Kallias does and tells him when it’s okay again.

“Cheating bastard!” Kallias yells when Govart kicks dirt in Torveld’s eyes. Their prince stumbles backwards, desperately rubbing at his face with his hand. 

“Look out!” Erasmus screams as Govart lifts his sword high above his head and brings it down. Torveld leaps out of the way at the last minute and Erasmus swears he can hear the sound of the steel slamming into the dirt. That blow would have chopped right through Torveld’s skull and probably lodged in his rib cage, a clear disregard of Torveld’s right to yield a match and walk away alive.

Erasmus’s heart races like he’s the one in the ring hefting a sword. Torveld sees his opportunity and in seconds has Govart flat on his back with the blade pressed to this throat. They can’t hear Govart yield over the wild cheering of the crowd, but the guards on the side of the ring must because they take to the field to separate the alphas if needed.

“He did it!” Kallias whoops and squeezes his arms tight around Erasmus’s waist. They bounce, and yell, and embrace in their excitement. Elation swells inside Erasmus so quickly, he finds himself gasping for breath. Freedom with Torveld and Kallias at his side, he can barely latch onto the thought that seemed too wonderful to hope for and is now his reality. 

“C’mon!” Kalliias grabs his hand and tugs him to his feet. Erasmus laughs and stumbles a little on the silk pillow, too happy to care. Kallias hefts himself over the wooden railing with ease and helps Erasmus steady himself as he jumps down from the raised box. 

Jord reaches out to stop them, but a called “hold” from Laurent has him aborting his movement and resuming his position with a little smile instead.

Kallias takes off across the field, Erasmus not far behind. Both omegas shout their excitement, laughing and whooping as they run towards their alpha. Kallias has always been faster and reaches Torveld first. The alpha grunts as Kallias slams into him full tilt, but he catches the smaller man easily and uses his momentum to spin them.

“You did it!” Kallias cries.

“I did it,” Torveld echoes as he places the brunette on his feet. Erasmus stops a few feet from the pair, smile so wide it makes his cheeks sore as he watches them embrace. Torveld cups Kallias’s smooth jaw and tilts his face up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He seems to want to deepen it, but Kallias’s laughter prevents him from doing so and he breaks away with a beaming smile. The pair have eyes only for each other for a moment and Erasmus’s heart swells with love for them both instead of jealousy like he has feared before. 

Brown eyes find him over Kallias’s shoulder and he swears his smile widens, although he did not think such a thing possible. Torveld beckons him forward and Erasmus is more than happy to step into his embrace, Kallias watching from inches away. Strong arms caked in dirt and sweat wrap around his waist, surely dirtying his silk chiton. Erasmus finds he doesn’t care for anything except cupping that bearded jaw and bringing those lips down to meet his.

“I missed you,” Torveld breathes before their lips connect. Erasmus softens in his arms, pressing impossibly closer and gasping at the pleasure of their kissing. The stands erupt with further cheering but Erasmus hears it all through a fog, focused solely on having his alpha in his arms. Barely a week has passed since they last kissed, but it has felt like a life time.

When they finally part, Erasmus eyes prick at the edges with tears he is sure Torveld will see. “I missed you so much,” he whispers, trying to blink past them. Torveld cups his cheeks, brushes the tears away with gentle thumbs, and presses a kiss to his forehead. Erasmus wraps his arms around Torveld’s neck and rests his head against his chest, needing a moment to collect himself before they stand before the golden brothers. One of Torveld’s arms goes around him and the other pulls Kallias into their embrace. The alpha buries his face between their shoulders, sniffing first at one neck and then the other.

“You smell like each other,” he growls and makes a show of snuffling at Kallias’s neck again. The brunette giggles and tries to shove him away, but Torveld’s arm only tightens and keeps him in place. “You’ll have to tell me about your night together.”

“It may take a long time,” Kallias teases. “Erasmus came three times.” 

“You did too!” Erasmus protests. He can feel his cheeks flame in embarrassment, doubled when Torveld smirks at him.

“I’d love to hear all about it.”

Erasmus shoves Kallias’s shoulder and they grapple for a moment, excited energy turning them into reckless boys instead of men, until Kallias ducks forward and presses a quick kiss to Erasmus’s lips. Erasmus’s stomach flips in surprise and he freezes mid-grapple. 

“Not fair,” he says and can feel his cheeks brighten. Kallias only grins at him and winks.

Torveld chuckles and ushers them towards the stands, holding both of their hands as they walk. The crowd is still cheering and flowers rain on the trio as they make their way towards the Veretian court. Kallias smiles at the crowd, but Torveld and Erasmus both have eyes only for Prince Laurent, who claps alongside his brother.

“Congratulations, Prince Torveld of Patras,” Laurent heralds when the trio stop before him, making the crowd hush for the first time since the match started. “For winning the tournament and showing true honor, it is Vere’s pleasure to present you with the contracts for your omega prizes.” 

A servant presents two yellowed papers to Torveld on a jeweled pillow the color of Vere’s starburst. Torveld grips the papers in his hands. “Before the royal court and people of Vere, I, Torveld of Patras, claim these two omegas free from their bonds.” The sound of parchment tearing is drowned out by the shouts of the crowd. Torveld pulls both omegas into his sides and kisses them each in turn.

“You’re free,” he says. Erasmus vibrates with his excitement and he cannot stop smiling.

“Free,” he echoes as his eyes meet Kallias’s blue ones, filled with unimagined joy he is sure is reflected in his own gaze.


	23. Chapter 23

They are parted, omegas whisked away by a group of tittering servants to be readied for the banquet. Torveld tries to follow, to claim his omegas back and cancel any festivity in lieu of taking both of his omegas to bed, but Laurent intercedes before he can accost the group of gossiping servants.

“You met them on the field before custom called for it,” Laurent admonishes as he leads Torveld to the baths with a firm grip on his arm. “Consider this your punishment.”

It is torture, although perhaps not the worst he has faced, to soak in the baths without his two omegas at his side as they should be. He wants nothing more than to taste their skin in turn, fill his nose with their heady scents, and make them both tremble and beg him for release. His mind fills with fantasies of having them again and again in different positions until both are so satisfied they faint from pleasure. He takes himself in hand, unable to keep from releasing in the bath. It’s unsatisfying to grasp his own staff when he could have two hands stroke him at once, but it cools his desires to something more manageable until he can see them again.

Laurent keeps him occupied for the afternoon, assuring him multiple times that Erasmus and Kallias are safe and being taken care of as they are readied to be properly gifted to him as prizes of the tournament. The thought makes Torveld grind his teeth. They are more than prizes and he would rather do away with the ceremony and have them at his side as men instead of spectacles, but Vere has always been a country known for grandious entertainment. Torveld bites his tongue and distracts himself from his own protests. It is enough that Erasmus and Kallias are free and tonight, in the privacy of his rooms, the three of them can celebrate in their own way, free from stigma, traditions, or contracts. And tomorrow, he thinks, tomorrow they can start their true courtship as a trio and he can romance each of them without having to sneak about to do so.

It seems days pass before Torveld is led to the banquet hall to enjoy the feast held in his honor when it is in fact only hours. The hall is decorated with vases full of yellow flowers, yellow silks draped over tables and chairs, yellow pillows for pets to lounge at their employer’s feet, and a sea of candles that brighten the room in golden light. The yellow banner of Patras hangs on the wall behind the chair at the center of tables arranged in a large horseshoe. The servants outdid themselves, but Torveld finds he cannot appreciate the effort the longer he sits at the center chair with the two seats beside him empty of the men he wants to fill them most.

Servants pour wine with unobtrusive grace as courtiers flounce around the room, gossiping amongst themselves and offering congratulations to Torveld. He finds it hard to hold onto the thread of any conversation as his mind drifts to his omegas again and again. Many women with low cut dresses and men in tight fitting jackets try to hold his attention, but he escapes them with polite but clear rejections. Laurent sits to his right past the empty chair and smiles into the rim of his wineglass. 

A bell rings and in moments the room’s occupants find their seats around the tables, leaving the floor in the middle clear. The door to the hall opens and Erasmus and Kallias walk in, holding hands. Torveld perks up and his gaze focuses until all he can see is his two omegas. They both look beautiful. Gone is the heavy kohl and jewelry from the tournament. Their faces are bare of paint except for a little kohl around their lashes to make their eyes look rounder. Their hair has been brushed and oiled to shine in the dancing candlelight. Each omega wears a Patran style chiton the color of light gold and cinched at the hips with a darker golden cord. Their feet are bare, save for a string of small bells on each of Kallias’s ankles to match the ones on his wrists.

There is a single stool in the center of the floor with a yellow silk bundle atop it. Kallias takes the bundle and helps steady Erasmus on the stool as the blonde juggles a wooden kithara. Kallias ducks to press a chaste kiss to Erasmus’s lips and whispers erupt from the gathered crowd, silenced when Laurent clears his throat loudly. Erasmus flushes and ducks his head in embarrassment, but Kallias meets the gossip with a confident smirk. Torveld yearns to vault over the table and sweep them both into his arms, but he settles for smiling his approval at each of them, wide and unabashed. Let the Veretian courtiers chew on that gossip, that Prince Torveld encourages his omegas to find pleasure with one another.

Erasmus adjusts the kithara on his thigh as Kallias moves to the center of the floor, sheer silk draped artfully around his body so that only parts of his olive skin show, dark against the light yellow. There is a beat of silence, then Erasmus plucks the strings and the room fills with soft music. The song begins slowly, each pluck of the string distinct and melodic. Kallias’s body moves in gentle twists and turns, silk brushing over his skin and chiton in waves. He steps and the ring of bells echoes over the kithara, blending into a beautiful tone. Then Erasmus opens his mouth and adds his sweet, lilting voice to the music.

Kallias dances and Erasmus sings and Torveld cannot look away from the beauty before him. Kallias’s eyes are closed and he moves with the grace of a dancer who knows every movement of his body and executes each step with ease. Erasmus watches him, eyes reflecting the same hunger Torveld feels, and plays with the confidence of well-practiced fingers. The song quickens, notes blending together and Erasmus voice growing louder. Kallias dances across the floor, leaping, bending, and twirling as the silk writhes around him. The room is silent, collective breath held in awe of the performance, chaste by Veretian standards but somehow conveying the same eroticism as a coupling. Torveld’s mouth dries at the thought.

The music crescendos suddenly and softens. Kallias takes slow, deliberate steps towards the stool, hips swinging and toes dragging over the floor. He drapes the silk across Erasmus’s shoulders, wraps his arms around the blonde from behind, and hooks his chin over Erasmus’s bare shoulder as Erasmus plucks the final notes and his voice drifts off to a hum and then silence.

The crowd applauds but Torveld sits frozen, hands clenched on the arms of his chair as blue and honey eyes stare at him, warm with tender affection. The prince cannot believe his luck at having the hearts of both men available to his care. He snaps from his stupor and stands.

“A toast,” he calls and holds his wine glass aloft, “to art made more beautiful by the men who perform it.” 

Kallias and Erasmus both grin and practically skip towards him as the gathered crowd toasts and drinks. He kisses each in turn, lips smiling too broadly to make much of the kisses. Each omega takes their rightful seat at his side and scoot their chairs closer to his own as Auguste stands to make a customary speech.

After the speech and a toast to Torveld’s valor, the dinner begins. Servants swarm from the kitchens in practiced step, bearing plates of various finger foods for the guests to choose from as they circle the tables. Torveld is more interested in indulging in his companions than the rich food.

“Your voice is lovely,” he murmurs against Erasmus’s lips. The blonde giggles, drapes the yellow silk over Torveld’s shoulders, and uses it to pull him down for another kiss. 

Torveld turns to Kallias, who’s chest still rises and falls as he tries to catch his breath from the performance. The prince ducks down to kiss him again, but Kallias lifts his hands to ward him away.

“I’m all sweaty,” he protests. 

Torveld sniffs at him, earning a giggle from the omega behind him and a scrunching of Kallias’s nose. “You smell fine.” He kisses Kallias but doesn’t linger to respect the omega’s insecurity. “You are beautiful when you dance.”

“Maybe Kallias will gift us with a private performance,” Erasmus suggests, hand cupping his chin where he leans on the arm of Torveld’s chair. His smile is brighter than the candlelight that flickers off his golden curls.

“Maybe I’ll make you dance with me,” Kallias retorts with a lewd grin. “I’m sure I can make you come in your clothing.”

A pink flush spreads over Erasmus’s cheeks and Torveld chuckles at the reaction. Before he can comment, a servant extends a platter of food for them to take from. Erasmus scrambles to busy his hands and gathers some of the delicacy onto Torveld’s plate for the three of them to share. He extends a morsel to Torveld, fingers trembling, and Torveld is struck with familiarity of that first dinner he planned for Erasmus. He gazes over Erasmus’s head to where Laurent is deep in conversation with his brother and a single glance of knowing blue eyes tells Torveld everything. He would laugh at his friend’s ridiculous attention to detail if he was at all surprised. He’s known Laurent too long, of course he planned the meal.

He takes Erasmus’s offered food, then raises a glass to Laurent, a silent toast before washing the food down with chilled sweet wine. 

“I’m missing something,” Kallias comments, popping an olive marinated in oil and spices into his mouth.

“Just Laurent being Laurent.” Torveld holds another olive up to Kallias’s lips and the omega takes it with a kiss to his fingertips.

The dinner progresses through waves of various foods presented in much the same way instead of distinct courses. Servants circle the tables, offering food and wine, and guests accept what they want. Courtiers at varying levels of sobriety approach Torveld to offer congratulations, but quickly depart when it is obvious he wants to bask in his omegas’ company. The trio exchanges bits of food, each growing bolder with lingering lips and flicking tongues as the meal stretches. None of them drink more than a glass of wine, an unspoken agreement to experience the night after dinner completely unimpeded. 

Torveld’s lust is palpable and he hums as he watches Erasmus suck a sauce from Kallias’s fingertips over his lap. He goes to stand then, to quit the dinner and take his omegas back to his rooms, but Kallias pulls him back down. 

“We can’t leave before dessert,” he says. “It’s my favorite.” He bats those dark lashes at Torveld and the prince knows he is being played but allows it anyway.

Dessert comes in the form of little bowls full of honeyed cream that’s been whipped and then frozen into peaks. It’s a Veretian specialty, one of Torveld’s favorites in fact. Erasmus lifts only one bowl from the tray and smiles that little smile that tells Torveld he is up to something. The jest is revealed in the next moment, when Erasmus takes a bite of the cream himself, then leans over Torveld’s lap and meets Kallias in a kiss. Torveld watches with wide eyes as their tongues twist on the brink of their lips, exchanging white cream between their mouths. It’s lewd and overt and nothing like the subtle teasing of their performance. Torveld’s breath quickens and his laps stirs with arousal. He clenches the arms of his chair to keep from pulling one or both of them bodily into his lap and sating his desire in front of the entire hall. 

“Bedroom, now,” he growls, clamping a hand on the smooth skin of two different thighs. The omegas part, each smiling deviously at him.

“But dessert—” Kallias starts but doesn’t finish as Torveld grips his wrist and pulls him from his chair. Torveld drags Kallias from the hall, a giggling Erasmus trailing behind them. 

Stomping through the halls to his rooms gives Torveld the time to control his desires and think properly. He stops at the doorway and turns to Kallias.

“I know we have barely had time to court.” He cups one olive cheek and brushes his thumb over Kallias’s cheekbone. “I desire to lay with you tonight, but I will not force you if you are not ready to. We have all the time and freedom to court properly now.”

Kallias smiles, soft at the edges with obvious tenderness. He leans up on tiptoes and presses a chaste kiss to Torveld’s lips, fingers splaying over his bearded jaw. “I want to be here if you and Erasmus don’t think I’m intruding.”

“You’re not intruding,” Erasmus answers before Torveld can and presses a kiss to Kallias’s shoulder.

Kallias smiles at him, then turns to Torveld again, eyes serious. “I want to lay with you. Both of you,” he adds and kisses Erasmus’s forehead as the blonde wraps arms around his waist in a gentle hug. “I’m not ready to knot yet, so you’ll have to satisfy yourself with knotting Eras only.” 

“I think I can handle that.” Torveld and Kallias both smirk as Erasmus flushes and ducks his head. 

Torveld is grateful for the conversation that cooled his lust to a gentle tide instead of the violent whirlpool it seemed before. He still wants both omegas and desire tugs at his stomach and his lap as they enter his rooms, but it is easier to control his movements. He wants Kallias and Erasmus to enjoy themselves and he wants to indulge in them, not just consume with wild abandonment, uncaring of their pleasure. 

Kallias and Erasmus crawl onto the bed and arrange themselves side by side, space left between them for Torveld to slot himself. The prince wants to draw out his pleasure and theirs. “Kiss,” he says in a soft tone, more of a question than a command, but the omegas are happy to listen anyway. They turn to each other and meet in a soft, passionate kiss. Erasmus’s fingers bury in Kallias’s hair as Kallias grips Erasmus’s waist. Torveld sighs his own pleasure and watches them for a long moment. It’s obvious, the love between them, and he admonishes himself for not noticing sooner. They fit perfectly, pale skin against olive, and Torveld wishes he could capture the moment in a painting but he knows even the most skilled artist could not truly portray their devotion. 

“Undress,” he breathes when he sees Kallias’s fingers clench at the cloth over Erasmus’s hip. He unties his own tunic, letting the clothing pool on the floor at his feet without a care as he watches the two omegas on the bed. Their tunics slip from their bodies onto the bedding beneath them, revealing half-hard staffs and the smooth expanse of cream and tan. Erasmus giggles when Kallias rubs their noses together before he leans forward to swallow down that sweet noise. 

The scent of omega slick fills the room and Torveld groans as he drinks it in a deep breath. One night, he will pull a chair to the end of the bed and watch them couple again and again for hours, grasping his staff tight so he does not peak until he can no longer hold himself back. But tonight is for indulgence not abstention, so Torveld crawls onto the bed to join the pair.

They part, and each turn a little towards him, welcoming him between them with gentle smiles and the tilt of their hips. Torveld kisses Kallias’s cheek, then nuzzles against Erasmus’s neck where Govart’s mating mark is still healing just to hear the blonde laugh his breathy little laugh.

“My two omegas,” he breathes and squeezes them both. “I cannot believe it.” 

“How should we celebrate?” Kallias teases, eyes dancing with mischief. 

“I want to taste you as I have Erasmus.” 

Those blue eyes widen to the size of large coins and Kallias’s breath quickens. He nods, dazed before Torveld has even gotten his tongue in him, and Erasmus and Torveld both chuckle at his expression.

“I think he would like that, my prince,” Erasmus says, voice lilting with barely held in joy. 

“I think he’ll like being between us more.” The little line appears on Erasmus’s forehead and Torveld kisses it away. He arranges Kallias and Erasmus and both omegas move willingly according to his instructions and gentle hands. Erasmus lies on his back, head resting on the pillows, with Kallias above him on hands and knees. Kallias cock hangs heavy between his legs, straining towards Erasmus’s and already dripping his lust. Erasmus captures the liquid with questing fingertips and rubs it in a thin line up his own chest. Kallias groans at the image and Torveld echoes it.

“Deviant,” Kallias mutters and ducks to seal his lips against Erasmus’s

Torveld watches them for a moment, running his hands over Kallias’s thighs and bottom. Kallias lets out a shuddering breath when Torveld grips his cheeks and parts them. He doesn’t apply his mouth yet, letting his eyes take in the sight of that puckered hole already leaking slick. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Erasmus running calming fingers over Kallias’s waist and smiling up at him with a look of such unabashed adoration it makes Torveld’s heart thump wildly.

Torveld ducks down, presses a kiss to crease of Kallias’s thigh, then licks a long stripe between the split of his cheeks. Kallias jerks violently and only Torveld’s hands keep his hips in place. He licks over him again before sealing his mouth over the entrance and flicking the tip of his tongue against the furled skin. The taste of spun sugar fills his mouth, not as distinct as Erasmus’s rich honey, but sweet and light. Torveld groans at the taste but keeps flicking his tongue instead of pressing inside. 

Kallias moans long and low and grinds his hips back against Torveld’s face, which makes the alpha groan in turn. Torveld pulls away for a second, making Kallias whine and pout over his shoulder.

“None of that.” Torveld teases. He swats Kallias’s backside a little harder than he means to and instead of wincing, Kallias’s breath hitches and precum spurts from his cock onto the pale skin beneath him. Torveld grins and stores that reaction away for another night.

“Erasmus,” the blonde turns hazy eyes onto Torveld, “touch Kallias. I want him to feel pleasure from both of his lovers.” Kallias’s eyes grow impossibly wide, but neither of his lovers give him the chance to respond before they descend on him. One of Erasmus’s hands wraps around his staff while the other plays over his nipples, pinching and teasing. Torveld ducks down again and finally thrusts his tongue into that slick hole. Kallias jolts and moans between them.

Torveld alternates between licking and thrusting, one hand clenched on Kallias’s hip to keep him from jerking away. His other hand finds Erasmus’s thigh and he feels the omega’s muscle give a hearty twitch as he trails his fingers up that sensitive skin. By touch, he finds Erasmus’s slick hole and eases a finger inside, followed quickly by another. Erasmus’s breathy moan is cut off and Torveld can imagine his omegas are kissing again, a site he wishes he could watch but finds he can’t complain with Kallias’s slick dripping down his chin and Erasmus’s over his palm.

Kallias’s moans grow louder and louder. His thighs tremble to hold him up and every thrust of Torveld’s tongue or squeeze of Erasmus’s hand makes his hips grind backwards or forwards trying to chase the pleasure. He lets out something like a yelp and his whole body convulses with his pleasure. Torveld licks him through it, not needing to see to know that he is painting Erasmus in his seed. 

When Kallias’s movement calms to the occasional tremor, Torveld sits back on his heels. Kallias’s face is buried in Erasmus’s neck and his hands grip the sheets on either side of the slighter man beneath him. Erasmus murmurs into his ear and his hands brush up and down Kallias’s spine, holding him as he comes down from his pleasure. 

“Erasmus, keep stroking Kallias. I want to make him hard again for you.” Erasmus eyebrows furrow but Torveld ignores him. He presses a kiss to Kallias’s lower back and soothes a hand over his hip. “Kallias, if this is too much at any point, just say ‘enough’ and we will stop.”

Kallias whimpers but he nods against Erasmus’s neck and that’s all the permission Torveld needs. He grips Kallias’s hips with both hands and ducks to apply his mouth again. Kallias jerks hard, body instinctually trying to escape the oversensitivity, but Torveld holds him tight. Omegas can harden and peak multiple times in a row and Torveld needs Kallias hard for what he has planned next. Those hips jerk again and Torveld is sure Erasmus is massaging Kallias’s soft cock, trying to encourage it to stiffen again.

Kallias whimpers, whines, and curses as his lovers tease his most sensitive parts so soon after his release. 

“Alright?” Erasmus asks after a particularly loud curse. Kallias hums something of an agreement. “Kallias, you’re crying.” Torveld slows his mouth against Kallias’s entrance, ready to pull away entirely to give the omega a chance to recover. 

“D-don’t stop,” Kallias whines and then moans low and throaty at a twist of Erasmus’s fingers. “Please please please.”

Torveld groans at the noise, his own staff throbbing at the way his omega cries his pleasure, and doubles the pressure of his mouth just to hear Kallias yelp. It wasn’t his intention to make Kallias cry; he only wanted to overwhelm the omega with pleasure. Torveld has to trust that he would beg out if he was in any true pain.

The noises take on that high, desperate pitch again and just as Kallias’s thighs shake in earnest, Torveld shoves a hand between his legs and wraps his fingers tight at the base of Kallias’s staff.

“Erasmus, stop,” he says, and he can feel Erasmus’s fingers still upon Kallias’s cock. Kallias groans, his abdomen clenches hard, trying to force an orgasm that Torveld won’t allow, and he pounds his fist against the mattress as he is overcome. He collapses forward against Erasmus, breathing hard, and Erasmus wraps gentle arms around him, trying to soothe him. The alpha stretches out next to them, not touching either of them.

“Why did you stop?” Kallias cracks one eyes open to look at Torveld over the expanse of Erasmus’s collarbone. Tear tracks are evident on his cheeks and his eyes are red at the rims. Torveld’s stomach twists for a moment, worried he has pushed his omega too hard. Something must pass over his face because Kallias reaches a hand over and brushes trembling fingertips through the scruff on his beard with a lazy smile. The tightness of worry unwinds from Torveld’s stomach, forgiveness clear in Kallias’s actions. His hand drops and Torveld catches it and cradles it, holding it up to his mouth so he can press kisses to those shaking fingers. 

“Answer the question,” Kallias mumbles as he nuzzles his face further into Erasmus’s neck.

“I thought you would like to sate your desire with Erasmus’s body.” Two pairs of puzzled eyes stare at Torveld and he smirks. “Would you like to mount Erasmus? I’m sure he would enjoy it.”

A bright flush fills Erasmus’s cheeks and his breath quickens at the idea. Kallias just looks more confused. “But omegas can’t…”

“You have a working prick. Did you think it only for display?”

Kallias turns wide eyes onto his friend and the blonde smiles up at him and wiggles against the sheets, eagerness clear in the line of his body.


	24. Chapter 24

“Please Kallias,” Erasmus says. He’s never thought about Kallias taking him before, but now that Torveld has put the idea in his mind, he cannot imagine anything that he would enjoy more. Blue eyes search his face in the frantic way that means Kallias is unsure. Erasmus smiles and he can’t stop his body from wiggling against the pallet, desperate now for Kallias inside him.

Kallias’s hesitation breaks with the tender smirk that Erasmus fell in love with first. “Okay,” he breathes, eyes soft with adoration that makes Erasmus preen. 

“What will you do, love?” Erasmus asks of Torveld. The alpha grins and props his head in his hand.

“I will watch and wait my turn.” It hits Erasmus then, that Torveld still plans to knot him, to take him after he is loose from Kallias’s thrusts and full of his spend.

“Tor,” he breathes and his whole body fills with heat. The prince chuckles against his mouth before pressing a kiss to his lips. He tastes like Kallias and Erasmus moans a little as he lets the man explore his mouth with gentle licks. 

Kallias moves down his body, slots easily between his spread thighs, and lifts Erasmus’s legs to wrap around his hips. His fingers tremble as they seek out Erasmus’s entrance only to find it already stretched. Erasmus and Torveld both huff a laugh at his surprise.

“I couldn’t resist,” Torveld teases and Erasmus can feel his cheeks flush. 

Kallias’s surprise turns into the wicked smirk that always meant mischief and trouble for Erasmus growing up. He feels the spongy tip of Kallias’s cock rub over his entrance as the other omega lines himself up and he tries to bear down on it, but Kallias holds him steady.

“Uh, uh, uh,’ Kallias teases with a wagging finger. If that finger was anywhere near his mouth, Erasmus would bite him.

“You mean to tease me now when you finally have me on my back?” He widens his eyes and looks up at the other omega through his lashes. Next to him, Torveld bites back a chuckle that Erasmus ignores.

“I’m not an alpha, Eras, so that little lost omega look won’t work on me.” Erasmus purses his lips and Kallias chuckles. He runs a hand down Erasmus’s thigh, fingers teasing along the crease where he is most sensitive. His leg twitches but Erasmus keeps from sighing his pleasure. He won’t give Kallias the satisfaction if he means to tease. “You and Torveld just stopped me on the edge of peaking. I think you can deal with a little teasing.”

Erasmus huffs and glares when Torveld lets out a full throated laugh this time. “You’re not helping.”

Torveld presses a kiss to his temple. “Don’t worry, little omega,” he murmurs straight into Erasmus’s ear, making the skin of his neck and shoulders break out in bumps. “Kallias wants you. He just needs a moment to make himself last.”

Erasmus studies Kallias’s face. His eyes are still a little pink at the rim, although the evidence of his tears is gone. His cheeks are flush from his earlier exertion and his hands still shake a little where they press against Erasmus’s skin. Erasmus pulls Kallias down for a kiss. There’s little heat to it as they move their mouths against each other in a lazy sort of way born from years of familiarity even if the kissing is relatively new. Erasmus runs his fingers through soft locks, scratching at Kallias’s nape and massaging his neck and shoulders. 

The kissing gives Kallias time to pull the scattered pieces of himself back together and he seems more centered when he sits back on his heels moments later. 

“Please, Kal,” Erasmus breathes, “don’t make me wait.”

Kallias smiles, adjusts himself between Erasmus’s legs, and thrusts all the way to the hilt in one smooth movement. Erasmus jerks and then lets out a satisfied moan. Kallias isn’t as large as the alphas that Erasmus has lain with over the years, but Torveld only used two fingers so Erasmus can feel every inch of Kallias’s cock. 

“You feel—” 

“Yeah,” Kallias sighs. They smile at each other and Torveld shifts a little next to them, fingers wrapping around his own swollen staff. 

Kallias starts slow, pulling back just barely and nudging forward to sheath himself fully inside of Erasmus again. Each small thrust forces a little gasp or sigh out of Erasmus. He runs his hands over Kallias’s olive skin, up his arms, over his shoulders, and down his chest, fingers exploring just as gently as Kallias’s thrusting. Neither one of them seems to be in a hurry to move faster to drive towards their own peaks.

The head of Kallias’s cock prods against the spot inside Erasmus and his skin tingles with the strength of it. His eyes widen and he lets out a little moan, breathy and barely formed. Kallias circles his hips instead of pulling back and the action makes his cock rub against that spot. Pleasure sears over his skin. Erasmus swears his eyes roll into the back of his head as he shudders and grips hard at Kallias’s shoulders.

“You’re perfect,” Kallias breathes against his neck, laying wet kisses over his neck and shoulder, staff still grinding within Erasmus’s body. When Erasmus whimpers in earnest, he finally relents and pulls his hips back enough to let Erasmus catch his breath. 

“Alright?”

“More, please,” Erasmus whines and tries to push his hips down, to get that grinding friction back. The angle is wrong and the tip of Kallias’s staff slips from his body and slides against his skin. Erasmus’s hands scramble over Kallias’s shoulder blades as he tries to tug the other man forward.

Kallias shushes him and presses a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll give you what you want.” He lines himself up and slides in with no resistance from Erasmus’s body. Erasmus grips at the slight curve of Kallias’s hips and pulls him forward, desperate for the full feeling again. When he’s all the way in, Kallias stills his hips and sifts his hands through Erasmus’s curls, damp at the temples with sweat. 

“Better?”

Erasmus nods his head, then blushes when his desperate actions catch up to his lust addled brain. “Sorry,” he mutters and looks away to the empty side of the bed so he doesn’t have to face Torveld either. 

Kallias cups his chin and forces his gaze back to the omega above him. “Torveld told me once not to apologize for my body’s reactions.”

“He said the same to me.”

They both look over to the alpha still watching silently with a small smile. He nods at them, urging them to continue with the jutting of his chin, and both omegas turn to each other.

“More?” Kallias asks. Erasmus searches his face, drinking in his blue eyes, faint freckles, and tender smile. He’s beautiful and his love is so clear it makes Erasmus’s heart thump harder in his chest.

He wraps his arms loosely around Kallias’s neck and pulls him down for a sweet kiss. “Make me come, Kallias, please,” he whispers against Kallias’s lips when they part. Kallias groans, captures his lips in a passionate kiss, and grinds his hips forward. 

Kallias thrusts in small bursts of movement, just enough to create friction on his staff. The head of his cock rubs against the spot in Erasmus without pause, grinding where Erasmus wants him most. He feels full in a way he shouldn’t with an omega’s slender staff in him, but Kallias keeps his hips flush against Erasmus’s backside and it reminds Erasmus of how an alpha feels seated with their knot inside him. There’s no bulging at his hole, but the sensation is similar enough to set Erasmus on edge.

He moans and shakes under Kallias, gripping at his shoulder, waist, any skin he can latch onto to pull his lover closer. His body is overcome with pleasure that smolders from the inside out. His eyes prick with tears at the edges, sensation too much, but Kallias doesn’t stop. He grinds forward more, groaning himself, a throaty sound that makes Erasmus moan in turn. Fingers wrap around his staff and the pleasure of his body finally has a focus. It bursts over him, resonating from his entrance and his cock as Kallias’s hand pumps him. It feels like a warm wave builds up inside of his stomach, bigger and bigger, then suddenly crests, filling him with sensation that makes his hips twitch and his eyes close tight.

He cries out and peaks. Kallias wrings every last drop of pleasure from him, fingers tugging at his cock and hips grinding forward to find his own release. Erasmus is aware of a wet sensation blooming inside of him as if hearing about the sensation from a third party instead of experiencing it himself. 

Kallias falls forward finally and presses Erasmus’s lax body further into the pallet below. Erasmus raises arms that feel heavier than normal to wrap around the other omega’s waist and hold him close. The brunette puffs air against his neck and Erasmus closes his eyes and floats, feeling satiated and relaxed. 

There’s a shuffling on the bed, then the press of Torveld’s muscled chest at his side. Both omegas blink to look at the alpha, eyelids still heavy with post-orgasm. 

“My beautiful omegas,” he breathes. His pupils are blown wide with arousal and Erasmus becomes aware of the scent of rain permeating the mix of honey and jasmine he drank in moments ago. Kallias recovers first to push up and kiss their alpha and Erasmus contents himself to watch their tongues meet on the edge of their lips, full of love for both men. Kallias’s cock twitches inside him and Erasmus jerks at the sensation, too sensitive.

Kallias breaks from Torveld, gives Erasmus a sheepish little grin in apology, and pulls out as carefully as he can. Erasmus winces and can feel his hole wink around nothing, Kallias’s spend dribbling out and onto the pallet below. He closes his eyes to rest and catch his breath. 

There’s more movement on the bed, probably Kallias and Torveld enjoying each other’s pleasures. Then, hands grip his legs and guide them around sturdy hips. Erasmus’s eyes fly open and his breath quickens. Torveld kneels between his legs, cock hard and poised at the entrance of his body. His eyes are dark with lust and roam across Erasmus’s chest, covered in a mix of his and Kallias’s cum. Erasmus almost forgot Torveld’s desire to knot him after Kallias had already found his pleasure in Erasmus’s body. He didn’t think it would be so soon after and the realization sends a thrill down his spine. Even Torveld, kind and courteous, can be overcome with desire when faced with the beauty of his two omegas together.

“I can’t hold back,” Torveld says, tone all at once wrecked at the view before him and worried about his omega’s wellbeing. “I’m sorry. You deserve more. You deserve gentleness and patience and—”

Erasmus cups that bearded jaw in both hands and pulls his alpha down for a sweet kiss. Torveld growls against his lips and deepens the kiss, thrusting his tongue into Erasmus’s mouth and swallowing his whimper. He’s boxed in now, Torveld looming above him with muscled arms framing either side of his body. It makes him feel small, dainty almost, compared to the strength that radiates from the man above him. The smell of fresh slick permeates the scents of arousal and sex already surrounding them. Torveld groans when it reaches his nose and kisses Erasmus harder.

“All I want is to feel you,” Erasmus whispers when they finally part 

Torveld hesitates. He looks unsure, like he is trying to fight himself, force himself to give Erasmus the type of night he imagined, not the one that Erasmus asked for. Erasmus throbs with desire. Now that he has his alpha above him, he knows exactly what his body wants.

Erasmus exposes the long curve of his throat as if enticing his alpha to mate. Torveld’s eyes narrow on that spot and his breathing quickens. “Alpha,” Erasmus breathes.

Large hands grip hard at his hips and pull him down to meet that thick, hard staff. Torveld is bigger than Kallias, wider and longer, but Erasmus is wet with slick and Kallias’s essence, making him glide in easily. Erasmus can feel every inch of Torveld as the alpha slowly pushes into his body, stretching his hole and rubbing along the walls of his entrance. He whimpers and grips Torveld’s shoulders hard, trying to steady his breathing and relax his body against the intrusion.

Soon Erasmus can feel the press of Torveld’s thighs along his flank. His whole body trembles and his half-hard cock gives a mighty twitch on his stomach, trying desperately to fill as he is overcome with the feeling of his alpha inside and around him. He’s strung out already, full of that hard cock and still tingling with the pleasure from before, never fully recovered. 

Torveld bends forward, nudging a little deeper as he does, and tucks his face into Erasmus’s neck to breathe and try to control his own body’s urges. Erasmus wraps his arms around his alpha and presses a gentle kiss to his temple. 

“You feel so good,” the alpha groans against his neck. He sounds on edge already and the idea sends a thrill through Erasmus. 

“Imagine how it’ll be when you move.” He smiles up at Torveld and pets a hand through his hair. “Don’t hold back.”

Torveld grumbles in that growly way he does sometimes that always makes Erasmus want to laugh. He sits back, places his hands on Erasmus’s hips again, then finally pulls back and thrusts forward, hard. Erasmus jerks on the bed and moans with the power of it. Torveld sets a punishing pace, each thrust pounding against the already swollen, sensitive spot inside Erasmus.

Erasmus moans and writhes on Torveld’s cock, helpless to do much but grip onto his shoulders and try to coordinate his hips to meet those thrusts. His cock swells quickly and throbs any time the head of it rubs over Torveld’s stomach, too sensitive after coming not so long ago.

“I won’t last,” Torveld pants above him, hips already beginning to lose rhythm. Erasmus huffs a shaky laugh that just turns into a moan as pleasure surges over his body. They’re both helpless to the pleasure that drives their hips together, desperate to find their peaks.

Torveld is close, Erasmus can tell by the way he grunts with every stuttering thrust. He can feel a thickening at the base of Torveld’s cock, stretching his hole as he pushes it in and pulls it out before the knot is fully formed. He whimpers and forces his body to relax instead of seize up in fear of the size. He’s taken alphas before but never outside of heat, and he’s all too aware of the swelling of Torveld’s knot without heat desperation addling his brain.

Torveld thrusts his hips forward fully and forces his knot into Erasmus’s pliant body as he comes with a deep groan. Erasmus’s hole stretches and stretches, then wraps snug around the knot that pops inside him, locking them together. It feels like it should be too much, but it doesn’t hurt. Tremors of pleasure wrack Erasmus’s body with nowhere to go, and he writhes on Torveld’s knot, grinding down against it, desperately seeking his own release. Calloused fingers wrap around his staff and Erasmus shouts, so sensitive it borders on painful. The fingers grip and twist at the head and Erasmus peaks for the second time that night, painting his and Torveld’s stomachs with his seed. Erasmus’s vision crackles as he shakes a part in Torveld’s arms.

He must black out for a moment. He’s aware of movement, of hands on his skin and gentle murmurs in his hair and ears, but it’s as if he is experiencing them all through the haze of his half-mating days ago. The next thing Erasmus is fully aware of is their changed position. He lays half on top of Torveld, half on his side. They’re locked together, Torveld’s knot snug and thick in his body. He shifts a little to get comfortable and the movement tugs on where they’re connected, making both of them gasp at the sensation. 

“Don’t,” Torveld breathes and his hands grip tight on Erasmus’s hips to still them. 

There’s a warm weight at his back and Erasmus looks over his shoulder to see Kallias, pressed along his body with a pleased smile. 

“I thought I would be jealous like I was when you first starting courting,” he admits, running his fingers over Erasmus’s waist and down to Torveld’s hand to hold it. “But I find it just made me happy to witness such beauty.”

Erasmus smiles and wishes desperately that he could turn and kiss Kallias but he can’t with Torveld’s knot still inside him. Kallias must realize what he wants because the brunette leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Later,” he promises and Erasmus grins. He curls into Torveld and nuzzles into the alpha’s chest. He wants to stay awake, to instigate another round of pleasure and lovemaking after Torveld’s knot goes down, but his body is exhausted and soon sleep tugs at his mind. He shifts a little, right on the edge of sleep, and smiles when both of his lovers adjust around him, making him feel warm and secure in the haphazard tangle of arms and legs.


	25. Chapter 25

Kallias is comfortable and warm, body pressed against Erasmus’s as he awakes like so many mornings before. Except this morning feels different. This morning, Kallias tucks his nose in the hair behind the blonde’s ear and breathes in the comforting mix of three different scents. He’s all too aware of the man lying on the other side of Erasmus, a hand reaching over Erasmus’s body to cup Kallias’s waist as they all slept. Blindly Kallias brushes fingers down that muscled arm and traces over his knuckles before intertwining their fingers together. The hand squeezes his and Kallias finally blinks open his eyes to see Torveld’s warm gaze studying him over a nest of crushed blonde curls.

“How long have you been awake?” he whispers over Erasmus’s head, trying to keep from disturbing his lover. He means to ask how long the prince has been staring at them.

“Not long.”

Kallias hums and they lapse into silence, each gazing upon the other. Torveld’s face is slack with fatigue but his eyes reveal true happiness. Kallias is struck with a sudden urge to kiss the alpha but he contents himself with lifting his hand and pressing kisses against his knuckles. Torveld’s expression softens as Kallias turns his hand to kiss along his palm and wrist.

“Kallias,” the alpha breathes, heavy with words unsaid and emotions not yet fully formed. Kallias isn’t ready for it yet, doesn’t know Torveld well enough as a lover but wants desperately to.

He shakes his head but holds Torveld’s hand to his cheek. The alpha smiles at him and cups his cheek, rubbing his thumb over Kallias’s cheekbone. 

“I want that,” Kallias says and casts his eyes down to where Erasmus’s and Torveld’s lower halves are still tangled together, no longer knotted. “I’m not ready. Not yet. But I want to be.”

“Don’t rush yourself.” Torveld smiles. “And don’t rush us. We have time to explore our courtship.”

“Tell me how you’ll do it.” He can’t lean forward to kiss or touch Torveld without disturbing the sweet omega that still sleeps between them, but he can satisfy himself with fantasies spun in Torveld’s soothing voice.

“With Erasmus, we spent time in the gardens talking, but you’re different. You like activities and movement.” As he talks, Torveld’s thumb passes over Kallias’s lips and the omega kisses it. Torveld smiles. “I would love to take you riding. We could share a horse or race if you wanted to. I could teach you hunting or archery. Anything you wanted, as long as we can do it together.”

Kallias blushes and ducks his head to try and hide it, but Torveld’s hand on his face keeps him from doing so. He chews his lip. “I’d like that,” he admits. “We could go at dusk and watch the stars come out of hiding.”

“There is a spring in the mountains with water cool even in the summer. I want to take you and Erasmus there.”

The love for Patras swells in Torveld’s tone and makes Kallias yearn to see it, to see everything Torveld wants to share with them. 

There’s a sigh between them and then movement as Erasmus stretches, eyes still closed and body still heavy with sleep. He rubs at his eyes and Kallias can see Torveld’s expression fill with love for the smaller man between them. He’s sure he himself has gazed upon Erasmus in the same tender way a hundred times. 

Honey eyes blink open and Erasmus smiles up at both men, seemingly unsurprised to find them already awake and watching him. 

“How do you feel?” Torveld asks, hand brushing over Erasmus’s flank to make his meaning clear. 

Erasmus blushes. “Sore,” he admits. Regret clouds the alpha’s face, but Erasmus cups his jaw with gentle hands. “Happily sore and in need of a bath.”

Kallias chuckles, nuzzles his face against Erasmus’s nape, and sniffs deeply. “You stink like alpha.”

“And like you,” Erasmus quips, shoving at Kallias where he can reach. Kallias laughs at that, a little too smug, and wraps Erasmus in a tight hug just to feel the other omega try to wiggle out of his grasp. Erasmus surprises him; instead of pushing away, he twists in the circle of Kallias’s arms and kisses him. It’s gentle and sweet, not the desperate kisses of the night before, and Kallias finds himself curling further around the other omega, but not urging the kiss into more.

Erasmus pulls back first, cheeks a little pink, but smiling. “We missed years of kissing each other. I think we have a lot to catch up on.”

“Let’s start now,” Kallias says and kisses Erasmus again. Erasmus giggles against his lips, keeping him from properly deepening the kiss, and after a moment Kallias pulls away with his own laugh. 

Torveld presses along the length of Erasmus’s back and nuzzles his face in usually luscious curls, now tangled with sleep. Kallias watches as Erasmus’s honey eyes light up in joy, then soften, then close as a tender smile stretches his mouth. His expression matches what Kallias can see of Torveld’s, hidden in golden hair. His heart thumps, not with jealousy, but with boundless affection for the beautiful scene before him.

They lay together for a long while, trading fond kisses and letting hands roam over bare skin, not to arouse but to relish. Torveld is the one who finally remembers talk of a bath and he calls for a servant to draw it before urging the two omegas out of bed. Erasmus winces a little when he stands so Kallias wraps an arm around his waist to help him walk to the bath. He doesn’t limp entirely, but his movements are stiffer than normal.

“Maybe I don’t want Torveld to knot me,” Kallias teases, “if it’s gonna make me walk like an old maid.”

“I seem to remember another man grinding his staff inside me without pause.”

Kallias brows draw together, worried he hurt Erasmus with his enthusiasm last night. He opens his mouth to apologize, but Erasmus presses a finger over his lips. “My hips are just sore Kallias. You and Torveld didn’t hurt me. In fact,” he winks, “I look forward to a repeat performance.”

Kallias huffs a laugh. “Me too.”

The bath in Torveld’s private chamber is a large wooden tub that takes up most of the room. There is a shelf of towels and various soaps and oils within arm’s reach. Erasmus steps gingerly over the side of the tub, sinks down until the warm water laps at his chest, and reclines back against the side of the bath. Kallias and Torveld both join him. The tub is large enough for all three to fit, although their legs tangle along the floor. Torveld tells them both of his bathing room in Patras, a natural hot spring routed to flow through a stone basin cut into the floor. 

“It’s large enough for ten men,” he says as he runs a cloth full of suds in circles across Kallias’s back and shoulders. 

“But it’s a private bath?” Kallias asks, mind whirling with ideas of what the three of them could do in a bath with more room than this one.

“Yes, the springs are common in Patras. Torgeid has his own and we even have an entire bathing pool for servants.” 

After cupping warm water over Kallias’s shoulders to clear away the soap, Torveld presses a kiss to his neck, right where a mating mark would go. The omega shudders and it seems so easy to tilt his head further to the side, flick his dangling hair out of the way, and bare his neck to the alpha. Torveld sighs his appreciation and noses the area, arms wrapping around Kallias’s waist to pull him further into Torveld’s lap. Kallias isn’t scared, like he has been in the past when Govart got a little too interested in the area near his collarbones. He feels safe and cared for.

“Not yet,” Torveld breathes and lays a kiss over that sensitive skin. 

“I know.” Kallias notices that the alpha doesn’t pull back. He nuzzles over that area and his beard tickles Kallias’s skin. He wiggles, shoulders shaking with laughter as he tries to escape Torveld’s beard, but the alpha just growls, tightens his arms, and tickles him again the same way. 

Across the bath, Erasmus watches them both, amusement overriding the clear exhaustion on his face. 

Torveld relents when Kallias starts to laugh and wiggle in earnest to be free. He escapes to Erasmus’s side of the tub and offers to wash the other omega’s back.

Soon all three are scrubbed clean of the evidence last night, skin and hair washed and rinsed. Even Torveld’s beard was cleaned, Erasmus rubbing in enough suds to make him look like a village elder from the countryside of Akielos. All three men recline against the side of the tub, none wanting to leave the warm water.

“You kept your promise,” Kallias says first, breaking the comfortable silence. “You freed us. So, what happens now?”

He stares at his knees instead of at Torveld and takes Erasmus’s hand in his own, needing the anchor of his dearest friend for whatever the alpha replies. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Torveld, he does. It’s just Kallias’s life has taken turns he never expected because of unfulfilled promises and alphas with good intentions. If Torveld decides to leave the omegas behind in Vere, Kallias wants to steel himself to see Erasmus through that heartbreak.

“I have eight days left in Vere to finish negotiations with Laurent and Auguste. Then, we will ride for Bazal. The journey takes a while, but we should be there by the end of summer.”

“And us?” Erasmus asks.

“You’re coming with me,” Torveld replies as if the idea were obvious. Kallias wants to feel relief, but there is a small voice telling him that Torveld could just be saying that. He beats back that doubt. Torveld has proven time and again to be nothing but honorable. If he swears they are going to Patras, they are going to Patras.

“I meant, what about the three of us?” Erasmus says. “What does our future look like?”

Kallias looks up at Torveld then, curious to watch his face as he explains his thoughts on their relationship. One night in bed doesn’t guarantee he still wants both of them. Kallias isn’t stupid. He realizes he’s a threat to the alpha, having known and been with Erasmus for much longer than Torveld.

“I thought it clear, but if you both want declarations of my intentions, I’m happy to oblige.” Torveld reaches out and grasps one of their hands in each of his, completing their circle. “Starting tonight, I want to court each of you properly. Sometimes together and sometimes separately.” He lifts Kallias’s hand and presses a kiss to the back of his wet skin. “I want you two to court each other. You’ve been friends for so long, but your relationship is still new and you should explore it in private, without me always around.” He repeats his kiss but with Erasmus’s hand.

Erasmus turns to Kallias then, eyes bright with possibilities. Kallias grins and squeezes his hand. He’s been with Erasmus so long, he hadn’t considered actually courting the other man. His mind fills with ideas: places to take Eras, gifts to buy him, and ways to make him feel loved and cherished like he’s wanted to for years. Erasmus must be thinking much of the same because he grins at Kallias before looking back to the alpha.

“Then?” Erasmus asks, eyes shining with joy.

“Then I want all three of us to mate, together.”

“Will you take any more omegas?” Kallias asks.

Torveld shakes his head. “I always wanted one mate to dote on and care for and give my whole attention.” Kallias winces as worry twists his gut. Torveld squeezes his hand before the worry can take full hold of his senses. “I am ecstatic to have two mates who love each other as well.”

“Me too,” Erasmus says, voice cheery. He trembles with barely contained excitement, Kallias can feel it through their connected hands.

Two pairs of eyes, brown and honey, watch for his reaction. Each man is smiling and Kallias’s chest fills to bursting with care for both of them. Weeks ago, he resigned himself to watching Torveld take his only friend away from him and Erasmus leaving him behind without a thought to his feelings, or worse, allowing him to tag along to Patras to watch as Erasmus drifted further from him and into Torveld’s embrace. He was wrong, so wrong to think so poorly of either of them. 

“Me too,” he echoes.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've finally made it to the last chapter! Thanks for going on this journey with me. There are a few one shots that go with this verse I'll be posting as I finalize them.

The sun has just begun to rise, cool rays peeking through the windows, but Laurent’s room is already bright with lit candles, burned almost to nubs. Torveld reclines on one of the settees as he has the whole night. It’s a tradition born from when they were much younger men wanting to extend their visit by speaking and playing games the night before Torveld is set to leave. The prince can feel the exhaustion in his bones, knows the day’s ride will be all the more difficult for not having slept, but can’t find it in himself to mind enough to break their childish ritual.

“Next summer seems far away,” Laurent comments, staring at the flame of a candle.

“I’ll miss you too, Laurent,” Torveld replies, looser with his words and their meaning than Laurent has ever been, even in private.

“Though,” Torveld adds in a teasing voice, “maybe if we write as much as you and Damen do, you’ll soon forget the days that separate us.”

“Get out.” Laurent glares and Torveld laughs heartily. Laurent is still protective of his correspondence with the prince of Akielos, but it is obvious to Auguste and Torveld that he is secretly pleased.

Torveld lurches to his feet with a groan and has to pause to stretch life into his tired joints before turning to Laurent. The blonde meets him in an embrace, arms wrapped tight around the other in a way Torveld knows Laurent would never allow his court to see. Outside they will embrace too, but in a much less intimate, much more official capacity: two princes bidding goodbye instead of two friends hugging.

“Thank you,” Laurent says when they finally part, hands cupping Torveld’s elbows as if not ready to fully part yet. 

“For what?”

“For freeing Erasmus and Kallias. Vere can finally be safe for all omegas.” Torveld smiles and squeezes Laurent’s arm. He knows how hard the other prince worked to negotiate fair contracts for omega pets and safe laws for their heats. 

The sun is higher now and Torveld must make his final preparations before his journey, even if he’d rather extend his stay in Arles a few more weeks. He leaves the golden prince’s room and makes his way through the familiar halls of Arles towards the stables to meet his retinue.

His final days in Arles passed quicker than all the rest. His mornings were filled with riding with Laurent, afternoons with negotiations with Auguste and Laurent, and his evenings with his two omegas. Erasmus and Kallias chose to continue their work in the library throughout the rest of his stay, partly a desire to prepare the next servants to take over the library and partly because Erasmus will miss it. Torveld wonders if he’ll want to work in the palace library of Bazal, but he’ll wait to broach the topic once Erasmus and Kallias settle in their new home.

He reaches the gardens of the palace and breathes in the cool dew of morning. He can already hear the voices of his company, servants readying horses and guards doing a final check of supplies before they ride. 

A look over the balcony shows the grounds below to be bustling with activity. Horses stand at the ready, carts are full of supplies and gifts from Vere to Patras, and people hurry to complete final tasks. Torveld is in no hurry. The road to Bazal is long and leaving now versus an hour from now makes little difference to the overall journey. He makes a quick detour into the gardens to clip two roses before finally joining his company in front of the stables.

He finds Kallias and Erasmus standing near two horses already tacked for the journey, a small crate at their feet with a cloth bundle on top.

“Is this all you have packed?” he asks.

“How much do you expect two slaves to own?” Erasmus replies as he leans up to press a kiss to Torveld’s cheek. The prince turns his head and meets him in a real kiss, albeit chaste and short. 

“When we get to Bazal, I will fill rooms with gifts for you and Kallias.” He offers a pink rose to Erasmus, one that he clipped from the same bush they had their first kiss in front of. The omega smiles and brings it to his nose to sniff.

“Or you can gift us yourself.”

“Gross, Eras.” Kallias makes an exaggerated hacking noise and Torveld chuckles as he draws the brunette into his arms. To Kallias, he hands another pink rose, delighted when the omega tucks it behind his ear like all those weeks ago.

His captain approaches him then and pulls his attention from his lovers to discuss final details. 

It’s another hour before the retinue is completely ready for the journey. Torveld helps Erasmus onto a bay that Kallias already sits astride, reigns held loosely in his hands. Erasmus squeaks when he is lifted and wraps his arms a little too tightly around Kallias’s middle. 

“Are you sure you do not wish to ride in a cart?” Torveld asks, even as Kallias rubs a hand over Erasmus’s forearm to calm him. Erasmus shakes his head and presses his face in between Kallias’s shoulder blades with a whimper.

“Don’t worry alpha, I’ll take care of him,” Kallias says with a smirk and a wink. 

Torveld knows it’s true; Kallias’s care of Erasmus is unmatched and he is surprisingly apt at horseback riding for having little experience. Regardless of the tournament and Laurent’s teasing about send-off celebrations, Torveld did get his hunting trip: single day affair followed by a feast with roasted game. Erasmus chose to stay behind during the hunt, but Kallias was eager to go. Torveld taught him to shoot a crossbow, the easiest weapon to handle from horseback, and Kallias impressed him with his riding skill and by shooting one pheasant.

Last night, Torveld and Kallias drew straws to see who would ride with Erasmus first, the blonde too timid around horses to handle one on his own. Torveld wants to be jealous but finds he can’t be when Erasmus tucks his face into Kallias’s dark hair and Kallias leans back into the embrace, tender smile replacing the smirk.

Torveld pulls himself onto his own horse and settles into the saddle, mind ready for the day’s journey even if his weary body isn’t quite. He glances at the palace behind, then at his two omegas, lost in their own world as Kallias murmurs into Erasmus’s ear. The blonde smiles at what Kallias said and squeezes his arms around the other omega’s waist. Torveld’s heart swells with love and forms a lump in his throat that makes it hard to call the start to their journey. He swallows and faces the northern road, keeping his lovers in the corner of his gaze.

“We ride!” he says and spurs his horse forward. With a final wave to Auguste, Laurent, and the gathered Veretians, he turns towards Patras, eager to return with his two lovers at his side.


End file.
